Out Of The Darkness
by Terri Osborne
Summary: A killer is hunting Rangers in the corridors of B5. It's up to Ivanova and Garibaldi to figure it out.
1.

Content Warning: [AC][AL]

Disclaimers: All B5 characters and settings belong to JMS and Warner Brothers and anybody else with legitimate legal claim. Don't want them, not claiming them, just borrowing them. Only one character's mine, but if the Great Maker needs her, or someone similar to her, she's his.

Spoiler warning: *Definitely* contains spoilers up to the current episodes of Season 5 (as much as I can actually use within the context of this story), as well as Book #9. *Could definitely* contain spoilers through the end of Season 5.

This is my first foray into the mystery genre, so please forgive any really glaring errors.

*Big* boxes of virtual Godivas to all who helped in the birth of this baby! You guys are the best!

Enough of my stalling. After some brief spoiler space for those who may not be up-to-date with the U.S.. . .

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Perpetual dedication:  
  
Dedicated to those of us who think there had to be a better way for Ivanova to realize it.  


_Introduction_

To whoever may end up reading this, I'm not normally a writer. Marcus is the creative one. I hope I've picked up a few things from listening to him tell the kids their bedtime stories. We'll see.  
Delenn thought someone should put down the real story of what happened those two weeks in 2263, what the history books are calling the two weeks that shook the Rangers to their core. Since I was the person who saw the most of it, she thought it should be me. You see, I have what's called an eidetic memory. I don't normally forget things, even when I want to.  
So I promised Delenn that I would try to tell the whole story, starting with why I left Babylon Five. I promised her that I wouldn't hold anything back.  
I keep my promises.  
It's Sophie's eighth birthday tomorrow. William will be four next month. They deserve to know more about their father than what's in those history books. We won't have him around much longer.  
  
Susan Ivanova Cole  
St. Petersburg, Russian Consortium  
January 8, 2272  
  
**********  
  
_Prologue - December 27, 2261_

I couldn't cry about it anymore. It wasn't that I didn't want to cry about it. I just didn't seem to have any more tears left.  
What I did have were the memories, and they were smothering me. Every time I turned around I saw something that reminded me of the last two years, a time that I don't think I could have survived if I'd had to do it alone. I couldn't even get away from the memories when the only thing that stood between me and open space was a bubble of glass and steel.  
One of the White Stars flew by. God, but it was a beautiful ship. Just beautiful enough to underestimate.  
I suppose that had been President Clark's fatal flaw. Who would have thought a ship that looked that elegant could be so lethal? It was a good combination, I suppose. Good looking and deadly sure seemed to describe some of the most important things in my life.  
My life. That's a good one. Was it really *mine* anymore?  
I wrapped my arms around me and started to pace -- and think.  
The only way to get away from the memories would be to leave the station, abandon the only place I've considered home since Momma died. I fought for this place, killed for it.  
I was hardly stuck here. I finally had my promotion to captain, complete with my choice of ships. It was everything I thought I'd worked for. All I had to do was take it.  
Why did the whole idea leave such a bad taste in my mouth?  
Oh, I knew why. Every time I closed my eyes I could see his head on the pillow . . . hear the three words he used to tell me goodbye.  
To be honest, I always had a good idea of how he felt. I've been able to pick up on strong emotions telepathically for as long as I can remember. Maybe I just got used to picking up on how he felt, hit a point where I was able to tune it out.  
Or maybe I didn't want to accept that he could have waited his entire life for me.  
I had spent so many nights trying to convince myself that Marcus was nothing more than a good friend to me. It was all lies. I've lost far too many good friends over the last few years. He was more than that, a lot more.  
The scary thing was that I had let him in without even realizing it. I trusted him more than I had been willing to admit. Trust. He took the last ounce of it I had left in me and treated it like something sacred. I didn't know how to tell him how much that meant to me. I wish I had. Things might have turned out different.  
Full metabolic shutdown.  
Just like that, he was gone.  
The curse of Susan Ivanova strikes again.  
Maybe I should get a sign made, something to warn people not to fall in love with me, that it will kill them.  
I would have loved to have been able to think of a reason *not* to accept the promotion, something that would make me stay. Maybe if Marcus had lived.  
But he didn't.  
I'm sure they'll understand.  
Eventually.  
  
**********  
  
_February 14, 2263_

In Norse mythology, a valkyrie was a woman who picked the warriors that were to be killed in battle and took them to Valhalla.  
Could there have been a better name for my first command? Maybe I finally had struck that deal with karma.  
Of course, a year ago I doubt I would have said that. Since then, the crew and I had managed to get through more near-mutinies and petty squabbles than I had thought possible. We were all finally working together like a well-oiled machine. It was all so hard to believe.  
It was also a shame that it was all about to end.  
"May I have your attention, please?" I asked.  
They all looked up at me from their stations. My God, they were all so young. I had to give them one final speech, but I didn't have a clue what to say. I could feel their thoughts, their curiosity. Some of them were anxious to leave. What would John Sheridan have said to them? I couldn't think of a damned thing that sounded original, so I did the next best thing. I took a deep breath and improvised.  
"I just wanted to say that in the year this ship has been operational, her crew has come further than she has. I know we had our . . . differences . . . at first, but your professionalism has allowed us to get past that and work together as a team. Any captain has to be able to trust their crew implicitly, and I firmly believe that the Valkyrie has one of the best crews in Earthforce. Any captain on any ship would be happy to have you on their crew.  
"To those of you who have requested a transfer, the rest of us will be sorry to see you go. I think I speak for everyone when I wish you the best of luck. Navigation, what's our ETA at Io?"  
"Another eighteen hours, Captain."  
"Well, then. If they haven't already, everyone transferring off-ship is dismissed to begin packing. Everyone else, let's get back to work."  
I walked over to the command chair, trying to figure out what I was going to do with the next eighteen hours. Since we were in hyperspace, the viewports weren't that much help. I could only stand watching red and black swirling around for so long. Without someone to talk to, it just got really boring really fast.  
Since I'd taken command of the Valkyrie, we'd only taken three extended trips through hyperspace. Between mission briefings, plans and navigational maps, I'd had something to keep me occupied all three times. It had been too long since I'd had absolutely nothing to do.  
I had an hour before my shift was over. Well, being the captain had its privileges, right? I got up and walked back toward the communications console, thanking as many deities as I could think of that Earthforce had finally figured out how to make the artificial gravity work. Getting around the Valkyrie's bridge in zero gravity would have been impossible.  
"Mister O'Connell?" I asked.  
O'Connell looked up at me, always eager to please. "Yes, Captain?"  
"Hyperspace bores me to tears these days. I'll be in my office."  
One nod told me that O'Connell understood, then he went right back to work. I couldn't resist a smile. There actually was a communications officer in Earthforce who was more diligent than Lieutenant Corwin. Who'd have thought?  
When I finally got into my office, I let myself relax and took a long look around. It was a small office, but serviceable. I hadn't let myself unpack much at first, mainly because I didn't seriously think I'd have command after the shakedown cruise.  
I hadn't been asked to transfer yet, and it didn't look like the orders were going to come anytime soon. So, if it was going to stay my office, then I was going to have to rearrange a few things.  
The easiest place to start was the bookcase. Bookcase. An interesting word if you considered how rare real books actually were these days. I only had two. One had been a gift, the other an inheritance.  
The plaque that marked my promotion to captain could go on the wall. I decided to put the vase that I'd bought ten years ago at the transfer point on Io in my quarters. What was the Earth-Minbari dictionary from Delenn doing in my office? I put that next to the vase.  
I only had one small picture from John and Delenn's wedding. Leave it to my oldest friend to marry the most unique woman in the galaxy. That picture could stay right where it was. It never hurt to have a reminder around of how powerful my friends were just in case I got any unwelcome visitors, right?  
That just left the volume of Shakespeare and the synthetic rose. What to do with those?  
The computer didn't let me finish my thought. "Incoming transmission."  
There were times when I missed Babcom. Not many, but there were times. "Receive transmission," I said.  
"Transmission is on Interstellar Alliance Presidential Frequency. Please state security code."  
"Security code, unicorn." Delenn's overly romantic sense of humor strikes again.  
"Security code accepted."  
The Alliance logo flashed on the screen, and then I saw a face I hadn't seen in over a year. One Doctor Stephen Franklin was smiling out at me from that screen. "Susan, how are you? How's the Valkyrie?"  
"Stephen? What are you doing on a restricted channel? Wait a second, aren't you supposed to be on Earth?"  
The smile left his face. "Delenn needed me here. Earthdome's agreed to let me work from Babylon Five for another year. They called it a special dispensation. And don't worry, it was John's idea to use this channel. Look, I know you're busy, so I'll try to keep this short. When are you due to arrive at Io?"  
"Eighteen hours."  
"How long after that can you get back here?"  
"To Babylon Five?"  
"Yes."  
"Well, I've got to offload some crew members, which should take about a day or two. Taking on their replacements should take another couple of days. Counting average travel time, we could probably get there in a week, give or take a day. Why?"  
Stephen didn't look happy. "It's not your ship that needs to be here, Susan. It's you."  
"Me? What for?"  
He looked at something offscreen. If I hadn't known better, I would have been convinced that he was gathering up the nerve to tell me something. Two people were arguing in the background. It sounded to me like John and Delenn.  
"Look, Stephen, I don't have time for games. What's going on? Don't tell me you called on a restricted channel because those two are having a fight."  
"No, they're not fighting. We're just trying to figure out how to tell you something."  
I knew the look on Stephen's face. The last time I'd seen it was the night they'd told me Marcus was dead. I was getting a bad feeling about this whole conversation.  
I began to wish that we were in the same room. At least then I wouldn't have had to worry about the song and dance routine. "You don't need to sugar coat it on my account, Stephen. You know that. Just spit it out."  
"It's about Marcus," he said.  
Now there was a name I hadn't actually *heard* for a while. "What about him?"  
Stephen's face went blank, but I could see the guilt in his eyes. What did Stephen have to feel guilty about that involved Marcus? Why did I have the feeling that I really didn't want to know?  
"Susan, I wish I could find an easier way to say this. He's alive."  
It felt like a concussion bomb had hit me flat in the chest. My knees felt like rubber. I reached behind me until I found the corner of my desk, the closest place I could sit down. My heart was pounding away somewhere in my throat.  
"He's alive?" I whispered.  
"Yes."  
"Stephen, you told me he was dead. That machine drained his life energy completely. You don't come back from that kind of dead."  
"I know. I wish I could tell you what kept him alive, but I can't." He was trying to calm me down with his voice. "I just thought that after what happened you might want to hear that much from me."  
The fact that I was furious with him was the only thing that kept me from breaking down. "No, what I *want* to hear from you is why you lied to me."  
"Susan, by every medical account, he was dead. I honestly don't know what happened. I'm sorry I didn't let you know before this, really." He was trying to beg with someone offscreen, I could see it in his eyes.  
"Allow me." Delenn ushered Stephen out of the picture. She was smiling from ear to ear. That smile extended all the way to her green eyes. "Captain, I understand that you are probably upset by this news."  
"Upset isn't even near the word for it, Delenn."  
Delenn smiled at me as if I were a child. "What good would be served by this anger? Would it not be wiser to give yourself over to your joy that he is alive?"  
"How do you know I'm so happy he's alive?" I asked.  
She gave me a glare. "Because I know you, old friend. I promise you that you will hear the whole story when you arrive. Is that acceptable?"  
I pulled my eyes away from the monitor, looking instead at the synthetic rose that was somehow still in my hand. Marcus was alive. For a few seconds, my brain simply refused to process any more information than that. "What am I supposed to tell Earthdome?"   
"John tells me that you have a considerable amount of leave coming to you, is that correct?"  
I nodded. "It's not enough."  
"Faith manages, Captain. We will see you in a few days."

**********  
  
No sooner had I set foot into the docking area than Stephen Franklin had me in a bear hug. He was his usual chipper self. No, he was actually *happier* than usual. The grin that broke through his face almost stretched from one ear to the other.  
"Susan! Welcome home!"  
"Where is everybody?" I asked. It bothered me a little that he was alone.  
"Well, our favorite President wanted to throw his new fleet commander a private welcome home party." He gave me a mischievous smile. "When I left, Alina was trying to talk Lyta into letting her find a male stripper for the cake."  
"Alina? I thought Captain Lochley's first name was Elizabeth?"  
"It is." He snapped his fingers. "Oh, that's right. You haven't heard about Alina yet. Just to give you a heads up, Captain Lochley takes some getting used to. Most of us had no idea what to do with her when she got here. Alina, however . . . ."  
There was a story there, I could hear it in his voice. Even through my defenses, I could pick up a glimpse of his thoughts. I'd warned Stephen before about keeping his strong emotions in check, that any telepath in the vicinity could use them to get into his mind, but I guess he didn't listen.  
"Who is she, Stephen?"  
He grabbed my elbow, trying to lead me down the hall. "She's Delenn's aide. She was only supposed to be Marcus's replacement, but when Lennier left she pulled double duty. Fun girl, once you get her to relax. Wonder if we can get her to sing?"  
I stopped him. "I heard about what happened with Lennier, Stephen. How's Delenn taking it?"  
"She's okay with it now, I think," he said, frighteningly serious. "When they caught him, though-"  
"Any idea why he did it?"  
"Same reason he joined the Rangers in the first place. Jealousy. After John and Delenn got married, he wasn't the same. He ran a couple of missions for Delenn when we were dealing with the Raiders, but he wouldn't stay on the station. Delenn tried to get us all to believe he'd joined the Rangers because of Marcus, but a lot of us knew better." He tried to lead me off in a different direction, one I knew went toward Medlab. "Come on. I'll take you to see Marcus."  
I pulled my arm away. "No, Stephen. Not yet."  
"You don't want to see him? I thought that was why you came back?"  
"It is. I just -- has he asked about me?"  
"Asked about you? Marcus?" He let out a long breath. "Delenn didn't tell you?"  
"Tell me what?"  
He ran a hand over his short hair, shaking his head. "He's in a coma."   
I couldn't believe it, but a part of me was actually relieved by the news. "Coma? How?"  
"Come on. Delenn should tell you this one. It was her idea, anyway."  
  
**********  
  
All of my friends had gathered in John Sheridan's quarters. John was the first to greet me when I arrived, complete with another bear hug. What were they trying to do, 'welcome' me all the way to a bed in Medlab?  
"Good to have you back, Susan."  
"It's good to be home, John. Thanks, I owe you one."  
He gave me that ridiculous grin of his. "Hell, no. After everything you've done for me, I think I still owe you about ten."  
"Welcome back, Captain." I turned and found Delenn standing beside me. I tried to give her a hug, but found a small obstacle. She appeared to be about seven or eight months pregnant.  
"Tell you what, John. I'm willing to forget five of those favors if you never ask me to babysit."  
"Deal."  
I found Garibaldi hiding in a corner. He looked as if he wanted to be somewhere, anywhere else. He was actually afraid of me for some reason, I could feel it. Not that I hadn't given him enough reasons over the years, but I didn't remember a single threat that had been serious. I tried to sound as cheerful as I could when I walked over to him. "Garibaldi! How the hell have you been?"  
He gave me his usual skeptical look. "Fine, Ivanova. You okay?"  
"Why wouldn't I be?"  
"Last I heard, you wanted me dead."  
I couldn't resist a laugh as the memory of that conversation came back. What do you know? Marcus *could* take orders. "Rule number one, Michael. Marcus has a tendency to stretch the truth." I reached out and put a hand on his arm, trying to make my voice as calm as possible. "I did, but then I talked to Lyta. She told me what she saw. I know about Bester."  
It seemed to settle him down a little. "Thank God. The last thing I need is you holding a grudge."  
Well, it was nice to know that my reputation was still intact.  
Delenn seemed to materialize at my elbow, leading me toward a woman who looked eerily familiar. The facial features were different, of course, but she looked just like the reflection I saw in the mirror every morning. She had the same dark brown hair, pulled into the same ponytail. Hell, I thought my eyes looked haunted.  
Delenn introduced her as Captain Elizabeth Lochley. I'd always thought of her as my replacement. Lochley held out her hand at the same time I did, and that only made the resemblance more spooky. They must have been having one hell of a time down in C&C. I briefly felt sorry for Corwin. Very briefly.  
I shook Lochley's hand, putting on my most diplomatic smile. "Captain Lochley. From what I've seen, you're doing quite well with the station." Lochley gave me a short, but polite, nod. This woman was all-business if ever I'd seen it. "Thank you, Captain. Or would you prefer Fleet Commander?"  
"I haven't thought about that, yet. Captain, I suppose."  
Lochley nodded again. "Captain it is, then. On behalf of the Earth Alliance, welcome."  
"Thank you," I said, looking for an escape route. I had to find a diplomatic way to hide the agonized expression that I knew was on my face. Dear God, did that woman ever relax?  
I was actually grateful when the Babcom unit began to beep.  
"What is it?" John groaned.  
Corwin's face appeared on the screen. "Sorry, sir, but Mister Allan asked to be notified when their ship was to begin boarding."  
Zack blushed. "Thanks, Lieutenant. We'll be right there."  
"Of course, sir. Have a safe trip." In an instant, the screen went black.  
Lyta sighed and hefted her bag onto her shoulder. "Sorry, everyone. By the time we get there, they'll be ready to leave. If we miss this one, it's a week before there's another transport back to Mars. You have no idea how annoying that woman will get if we're late."  
"What woman?" I asked.  
Lyta looked confused. "You know, she never has told me her name. We just call her Number One. She used to be the head of the Mars Resistance. Stephen, did she ever tell *you* her name?"  
Stephen shook his head. He was lucky that he had such a dark complexion. I could feel the embarrassment rolling off of him. I'd have to badger him about it later.  
Lyta gave me a quick hug, told everyone goodbye, and walked to the door.  
"You *will* take care of my security team, right Michael?" Zack asked.  
"Like they were my own," Michael said, sarcastic as always. "Still don't know why you're leaving me in charge instead of Morishi."  
"Because I can. Good to have you back, Ivanova." Zack nodded at me, then followed Lyta out the door.  
Call it intuition, but I'd always had a feeling about Zack and Lyta. Granted, what I felt from the few seconds I had been back told me a serious rift had come between them, but I could tell they would find a way around it. I couldn't resist asking anyone who would answer precisely what the trip was about.  
"It's a special request," John said. "Since Byron's people split up, Lyta's become their de facto leader. She asked to go to Mars to get any information she could out of what's left of the Psi Corps base there. Zack's going along as bodyguard."  
"What if she's scanned?" Lochley asked.  
I laughed at that. "Lyta? Scanned? Captain, you obviously don't know Lyta as well as you think you do. She was Ambassador Kosh's . . . aide . . . before the Vorlons left. I'm willing to bet there isn't a Psi Cop alive that could actually scan Lyta Alexander."  
Lochley's eyes were as wide as saucers. "You're kidding."  
"Nope."  
*No wonder we lost the civil war.*  
I stopped dead in my tracks as Lochley's thoughts entered my mind. The idea that the person running Babylon Five was on Clark's side of the war turned my stomach. With all of the ships that had turned tail and joined our fleet, where the hell had Lochley been? Come to think of it, why had John hand-picked her to take over?  
I immediately threw up more telepathic barriers, softening the voices that had been so loud in my mind. I'd had to do some serious mind games on the Valkyrie to keep from hearing every stray thought, but I had assumed that it had become an unconscious function.  
Obviously here, around my friends, I had relaxed too much. This place was home, but even at home I was going to have to work hard to keep this a secret. John and Delenn knew what I had been, and I knew I would have to tell them about what I had become. God knew I needed help with training. Lyta's little trip to Mars would hopefully be just a minor delay.  
"Hello. Has she arrived already?"  
I nearly jumped out of my skin at the new voice. When had the door opened? The source of the voice was a small woman standing in the doorway wearing a Ranger uniform. Her hair was dark, almost black, and it was pulled back from her face in a short ponytail. She had friendly green eyes and features that were almost as delicate as Delenn's. Her accent reminded me of Marcus. She walked up to me and mimicked one of Lennier's bows. "On behalf of the Rangers, welcome back, Fleet Commander Ivanova."  
I tried to return the bow, but couldn't quite pull it off. "Thank you, and Captain, please. You must be Alina."  
Delenn chose that moment to speak up. "Yes. Captain, this is Alina Minette, my aide."  
I took a deep breath, using every sense I had to get a feel for Alina. If Stephen was so interested in her, I guess I owed it to him. I felt an innate sense of goodness in her, the idea that she was just as much at home within the Rangers as Marcus had been. I lowered my telepathic barriers just enough to try to isolate her thoughts, but failed.  
I couldn't hear her at all.  
This threw me back a step. Putting the walls back up, I tried to hide how much the silence had affected me. "It's nice to meet you. Would you please excuse us? I need to talk with Delenn for a few minutes."  
Alina bowed again and walked off.  
"What is it, Susan?"  
"Alone," I whispered.  
"Certainly." Delenn turned toward the bedroom, her silk skirts rustling as she walked.  
When the door was closed behind us, I took a second to try and calm my nerves before asking what happened.  
Delenn smiled sadly. "With Marcus?"  
"Yes."  
"Have you spoken with Stephen?"  
I nodded. "He said I should talk to you."  
Delenn sat down gingerly, folding her hands over stomach. "Before I became involved, all I know is what he has told me. He said that after they had removed you both from the machine, there was barely anything left of Marcus. His body had ceased to function. Stephen declared his death and began the preparations for the funeral.  
"You had gone before he was finished. When he was ready for the body, he discovered that the meager life energy that had been in Marcus's body had not dissipated. Marcus was still alive. Stephen did not want to let him go either, Susan, so he placed Marcus into a cryo unit and told *no one*. We had a funeral for a man who was not dead. Stephen said that his silence was to keep us from getting our hopes up."  
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Does he know if Marcus ever woke up?"  
"I am told that he did not."  
"So, let me get this straight. If Stephen didn't tell anyone about this, how did you find out?"  
Delenn's lips thinned. "It was approximately one month ago. I had arrived early for an examination. I found Stephen in the cryo room, talking to one of the units."  
"Marcus?"  
"Yes. It was then that he told me what had happened."  
Something told me I didn't want to ask my next question. "Okay, how did he get from the cryo chamber into a coma?"  
"Lennier."  
This revelation put me back a step. "Lennier? What did he have to do with it?"  
Delenn slowly shook her head. "His White Star was captured by an Earthforce ship approximately two months ago. It had been badly damaged in battle, and was hardly a match for the destroyer that found him."  
"Yes, I remember hearing about that. The Hippolyta. Up until that point, I had a lot of respect for Captain Patrick."  
"Your Captain Patrick was, as you say, overzealous in his treatment of Lennier. He saw Lennier as nothing more than a criminal who had tried to kill the President of the Interstellar Alliance and failed. Because of him, Lennier was prosecuted on Earth. Prosecuted, and convicted."  
"Assassination attempts on heads of state come with the death penalty." All of a sudden I figured out what had happened. "And because he was prosecuted on Earth the surviving victim law extended to John, didn't it? John got to pick how Lennier died."  
"In theory. I spoke with Lennier after the trial. I had just found out about Marcus. Lennier felt very strongly that if his life were going to be taken, it should be used to return Marcus to us. I convinced John to choose the healing machine, with the sole condition that the energy be used to bring Marcus back."  
The poetic justice of it all almost brought a tear to my eye. "But, that's not supposed to work. Stephen said-"  
"I know," Delenn said. "He told me the same thing when I suggested it. I begged him to try, told him that I had faith that it would work."  
If Delenn said that she had faith in something working, it would work. This was pretty much an established fact among those few people she called friends. There were just a couple of things left for me to sort out.  
"Do you plan on telling him whose life *he's* got?" I asked.  
"No. Stephen and I discussed it, and we believe that Marcus would not take that news well."  
"He couldn't take it any worse than I did."  
She looked at me very seriously. "Yes, Susan. He could."  
"What?"  
"Trust me, Susan. There was a reason for what Marcus did beyond his feelings for you. Even though he was not involved, I do not believe he would handle the death of another friend well. I cannot say any more than that."  
"He's going to wonder what happened to Lennier."  
She nodded. "I realize that. When he asks, I will find a way to explain it to him, but not a moment before."  
The tone of her voice told me not to press the issue, so I asked my other question. "He's been in this coma for a month?"  
"No, just under two weeks. We had Stephen contact you as soon as his condition had stabilized."  
I couldn't help it. I started to pace. "Why didn't you tell me about the coma when you contacted me?"  
"Because I felt that if you knew he was not awake, you would not come. We have no way to tell when he will wake up, Susan. It could be tomorrow, it could be months from now. After what he did, would you not want to be the first person he sees?"  
There is one thing history will never remember about Delenn. There were times when she meddled a little too much in the affairs of other people. "Marriage has made you a hopeless romantic. Just don't get too proud of yourself. Telling me the whole story wouldn't have changed anything. I'd have come back just as fast."  
She had a disgustingly self-satisfied smile on her face. "So you *do* want to be the first person he sees?"  
That one question stopped my pacing. I actually thought about it for a couple of seconds, finding that the answer came sooner than I would have expected. "Yes . . . maybe. I at least want him to know that it worked."  
"He knows. Of that I am certain."  
"How?"  
"Faith." She gingerly pushed herself into a standing position, but not without my help. "Thank you, old friend. Now, I believe we should return to your party."  
With that, she slipped through the bedroom door, taking any answers she might had given with her. I followed her out the door, back into a living room that was buzzing with conversation. Oh, but it was going to be a long night.  


[End Part 1 of 6]

_BABYLON 5 names, characters and all related indicia are the property of J. Michael Straczynski, TNT and Warner Brothers, a division of Time Warner Entertainment Company. All rights reserved._


	2. 

[AC][AL]  
  
Disclaimers: All B5 characters and settings belong to JMS and Warner Brothers and anybody else with legitimate legal claim. Don't want them, not claiming them, just borrowing them. Only one character's mine, but if the Great Maker needs her, or someone similar to her, she's his.  
  
Spoiler warning: *Definitely* contains spoilers up to the current U.S. episodes of Season 5 (as much as I can actually use within the context of this story), as well as Book #9. *Could definitely* contain spoilers through the end of Season 5.  
  
This is my first foray into the mystery genre, so please forgive any really glaring errors.  
  
Big boxes of virtual Godivas to all who helped in the birth of this baby! You guys are the best!  
  
Enough of my stalling. After some brief spoiler space for those who may not be up-to-date with the U.S.. . .  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Perpetual dedication:  
Dedicated to those of us who think there had to be a better way for Ivanova to realize it.   
  
**********  
  
I couldn't believe what I was about to do. My hand was shaking like a leaf when I reached for the doorbell. No matter what lie I told myself, nothing convinced me that this was going to be easy.  
"You okay?"  
The sound of Stephen Franklin's voice normally wouldn't have caused me to leap out of my skin. But then, these were hardly normal conditions. I looked down at the case in his hand. Such a small piece of equipment for the bombshell that I was sure it was about to drop.  
"Yeah, Stephen. Fine."  
The door to John Sheridan's quarters finally opened, and when I saw what was on the other side I had to laugh. The entire room looked like a toy factory had exploded. Between the empty boxes were more toys than I had ever seen, anywhere. What had to be the funniest sight, though, was the President of the Interstellar Alliance himself trying to get away from a teddy bear that was half his height. Knowing John, the next thing he would be looking for would be an airlock big enough for that bear.  
"Don't ask," John said.  
I waded through the chaos until I managed to find the sofa. Only a few inches of cushion weren't covered in toys. I grabbed a small stuffed polar bear as I sat down in the middle of that mess.  
"Is Delenn here?" I asked.  
"No. She had Minbari business that couldn't wait."  
"Then I'll let you decide what to tell her."  
John glanced over at Stephen, who just shrugged. "Don't look at me. She wouldn't tell me what any of this was about, either."  
I took a deep breath. "Well, I am now, and I want this kept quiet. No official record of this *anywhere*. This can't even get within *earshot* of Earthforce. The only reason I'm telling the two of you is because I don't really have a choice. If you want to tell *anyone* else, ask me first." I pushed myself on, carefully picking every word. "John, do you remember why I told you I couldn't go through a telepathic scan?"  
"Well, yes. You're-" I felt him putting the pieces together. "Susan, you mean-?"  
"It's not a latency anymore." Just saying the words felt like the weight of the station had been lifted from my shoulders.  
"How strong are you?" John asked.  
"Your guess is as good as mine. That's why I asked you to bring the neural scanner, Stephen."  
Stephen looked lost. "Wait a second here. What latency?"  
And here I thought John had told him already. "Telepathy."  
"You're a telepath?"  
"Yes."  
"And how long have you been keeping this from your doctor?"  
I let out a groan. I had expected Stephen to be difficult about this, but not *this* difficult. "It all started just after I shipped out of here. I got lucky, I suppose. The mindquakes were minor. First one knocked me down a flight of stairs. Cracked a couple of vertebrae and generally wrenched the hell out of my back. Got to spend my first two weeks on the Valkyrie confined to bedrest in my quarters. Made one hell of a first impression on the crew."  
"Didn't anyone pick up on the mindquakes?" Stephen asked.  
"They went away right before I got returned to duty. My CMO just thought I'd hit my head too hard in the fall."  
"And you didn't tell your CMO about the mindquakes?"  
I gave him a glare. "I'm still here, aren't I?"  
John took a deep breath and tried to get us to be quiet. "It doesn't matter what she told her CMO, Stephen. What matters is what she's telling us right now. First things first. Susan, I know you're worried about the Corps. I promise you, we'll do everything in our power to take care of you. Part of the job of Alliance Fleet Commander is to be Delenn's second-in-command for the Rangers. They'll protect you. What I'm worried about is getting you trained."  
He was worried about me? I was flattered. "I've been working on a few things I picked up from my mother, but I haven't been able to do any more than that. I could probably manage a surface scan if I had to, but that's about it. I was planning on talking to Lyta about training me when she got back."  
John nodded. "Do it. If Lyta can't, or for some reason won't, help you, I'll see if Delenn can find a Minbari telepath willing to train you."  
"Thanks, John. I will." I looked around the room at all of the toys, until I finally got to the scanner at Stephen's feet. "Well, I suppose now's as good a time as any. Hook me up, Doc."  
Stephen was hesitant. "This scanner can't give us an exact level of your abilities. I can give you a good idea, but Lyta might be the only one who could tell you for sure."  
"Ballpark figure's better than nothing. What do I do?" I asked.  
The latches on the scanner's case opened with a pop. "Just try to relax. This is a new model, so I only have to put a couple of monitors on your skin."  
For once I decided to play the good little patient. It only took him a couple of seconds to place the monitors on my temples.  
"Ready?" he asked.  
"Ready as I'll every be."  
"Okay," he said. "Here goes. You shouldn't feel a thing."  
He was right. I could barely feel the monitors. I had to force myself to relax, to try not to think of how much things would change as a result of this one test. The seconds felt like hours before Stephen finally spoke up.  
"Time's up. They're running through the filter now."  
The machine beeped. Stephen studied the readouts. I tried to keep out of his thoughts, even though his disbelief was obvious to anyone.  
"Well, isn't this interesting." He put the machine down and reached for the electrodes, looking me straight in the eyes. "My dear Captain, I can say with a great deal of certainty that you are at least a P7, maybe even a P8."  
My jaw dropped. "P8?" Stunned wasn't quite the word for it. I felt like I'd been run through the proverbial ringer. First Marcus and now this. Reality certainly did seem to have it in for me.  
John whistled. "You think you can keep it under control until Lyta and Zack get back from Mars? They'll be back in three weeks."  
I shrugged, still trying to sort it all out. "I made it the year on the Valkyrie, didn't I? Three weeks should be a piece of cake."  
  
**********  
  
I couldn't believe where I was. I'd only been back a day. Where in the hell did I get the idea that I could do this?  
The door closed behind me, and I stood there, completely unable to move. Even facing the entire Earth fleet in the civil war, I hadn't been this afraid. The planet killers in the Shadow war hadn't unnerved me this much.  
This was different.  
This was personal.  
I managed to look over at the observation window. Stephen was standing there, waiting for a signal from me. I nodded slowly, and Stephen flipped a switch on the wall. The privacy switch, he'd called it. One switch that cut off any audio, video, or even securecam data coming out of the isolab. With all of the requests for privacy made by friends who had visited Marcus in the last few days, Stephen had thought it would be more efficient to just wire it all to one switch. Maintenance had hated the job.  
I, on the other hand, couldn't have been more thankful. Just being in the room was hard enough.  
Stephen walked away from the window. I was alone, but not completely. He may have been comatose, but I could still sense him just on the fringes of my awareness. It was weak, not nearly enough for me to have opened a connection, but it was enough to make me believe that there was somebody home.  
It took a few seconds of mustering my nerve, but I finally managed to walk over to the bed. There was a weight in my chest that just wouldn't go away. Somewhere in my mind I was trying to convince myself that this was really happening.  
He looked so calm, almost as if he were enjoying a deep sleep. No, I'd seen him asleep once, a lifetime ago. Now he looked even more peaceful.   
I reached out and touched his hand. As I did, I felt a stillness in my mind, a clarity of thought that I hadn't known for over a year. It was as if I'd been listening to white noise for the last year and someone had finally turned off the source. Something was going on telepathically and I had no idea what it was. I tried to reach out, to contact him, but I was met by silence.  
He was there, I just wasn't going to be able to reach him without words. The words wouldn't come.  
The time for expressing my gratitude would come later, after he awoke. I could almost hear Delenn's voice telling me to have patience with the universe, that Marcus would wake up when the time was right.  
The real question was could I wait that long?  
For that matter, did either one of us have that much time?  
I remembered the night they had told me he was gone. Tears that wouldn't stop flowing. Anger at myself for how I'd treated him. Anger at him for not saying anything. Hating the universe for letting something so completely wrong to happen.  
Only I could manage both anger and hatred over something that had been done out of love.  
Then the dreams had started, dreams that had been as vivid as memories. A place I had come to know as well as I knew Babylon Five because of nothing more than dreams. A place that had been destroyed before I had ever heard its name.  
Arisia Colony, the place he had called home.  
I felt a tear run down my cheek. My past was nothing more than one regret stacked upon another. To be honest, I had never seriously considered my future. It had never occurred to me that I would survive the Shadow War, let alone the civil war with Earth. I still hadn't given the future serious thought. It was as if I'd spent the last year in purgatory, as if my personal version of hell was living only in the past.  
But that changed. Now, all I had was the future. It was time to figure out what I wanted from it, and acknowledging the truth seemed to be the best place to start.  
I brushed a stray black hair off of his forehead. His mind was in there, held captive by his recovering body. I had never realized just how much I missed that mind, the quick wit, the slightly warped way he looked at the universe.  
I admit, I had always been convinced that all of his charm had been nothing more than a camouflage for a death wish. Hell, if it hadn't been for my career, I probably would have been the same way. Neither one of us had any family left, and Babylon Five was the only place we could call home.  
We had far too many things in common.  
I couldn't go back to Earth anymore. The last time I'd tried, the media had followed me like Pak'ma'ra let loose in a morgue. The only place I had been able to escape them was on the Valkyrie.  
Delenn was right. Marcus could wake up at any moment, or never. What did he have to wake up for? For all he knew, I was dead. I didn't doubt Delenn's confidence that he knew it had worked.  
I doubted my own.  
There had to be a way to reach him through this coma.  
I smiled as the answer came to me, effectively killing two birds with one stone. Bracing myself against the bedside, I leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. Maybe, just maybe, he would recognize my voice. I whispered four words into his ear before leaving.  
"I love you, too."  
  
**********  
  
"Captain, may I come in?"  
I looked up from my desk to find Alina Minette standing in my office doorway. "Of course. Is there something I can do for you, Miss Minette?" I gestured for her to take the one empty chair in the room.  
Alina walked over and sat down, lifting the long cowl she wore just enough to avoid brushing the stacks of flimsies that I'd been working on refiling. "Well, actually, no. I just thought I'd pop by and see how you were settling in. I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you."  
I set the file I'd been working on aside. "Not at all. I was just trying to figure out these files. I never thought I'd see the day that running the Rangers would require this much paperwork."  
"Yes, it is a daunting task, isn't it? If you ever require assistance, please don't hesitate to ask me, Captain."  
"Did it take *you* this long to figure out the filing system?" I asked, picking up another folder.  
"Between us, I never really did understand it. I'm fluent in Minbari, especially the religious caste dialect, so I know it isn't a language barrier."  
"Where you the one who translated all of this into English?"  
She nodded, giving me a pained smile. "It only took six months."  
"I'll put you in for a commendation," I said, trying not to laugh.  
After a couple of awkward seconds, Alina reached into one of her pockets. "Actually, Captain, I came to bring you a couple of items for your office. You might say they've become icons to the Rangers in the last month or so."  
"Icons?"  
"Yes. To anyone else, they simply are what they are. To those of us who know, however, they remind us of what we are truly capable of becoming. They have been in Delenn's care until now. She thought that you might appreciate having them by your side."  
Icons to the Rangers? Now I was really curious. She pulled two things from her pockets and sat them on my desk. One was a very familiar pin, while the other was something I didn't recall seeing before. Beside the pin worn by every member of the Rangers sat a small black cylinder that was about as long as my hand. I found myself staring at both items for a long time before I figured out why they might have been so revered. The only thing that could have separated these things from their owner for such a long time could have been death.  
"Alina, whose were these?"  
"You don't know?"  
My hand went on its own to the black cylinder. I'd heard some of the Rangers carried fighting pikes, even seen them used on more than a couple of occasions, but I'd never actually held one before. "This is Marcus's pike, isn't it?"  
Alina nodded.  
"How do you open it?"  
She reached forward, relocating my fingers to a small groove on the cylinder's face. I was all too familiar with the sound that the pike made when it flashed into existence.  
"To retract it, you just-"  
I managed to find the finger motion that retracted the pike before Alina could finish her instruction. "Delenn really doesn't mind if I keep these?" I asked.  
"She wouldn't have it any other way."  
I got a laugh out of that. "And if Delenn got her way, Marcus would wake up tomorrow."  
"She can be a bit of an idealist."  
"Be careful, Alina. That idealist changed the galaxy."  
"Oh, I know. I was there, too, Captain. Now, if you will excuse me, Delenn has quite a list of duties for me today." She stood up slowly, again lifting her cowl the few inches it took to clear the piles.  
"Alina?"  
She turned around gingerly. "Yes?"  
I picked up the pin, staring at it as it sat in the palm of my hand. I wanted to thank her, but other words were there. "I seem to have a habit of making bad first impressions. I'm sorry if we got off on the wrong foot."  
"Given all that you've been through, it's perfectly understandable. "  
There was a strange tone to her voice. I had to pull my eyes away from the pin, but when I looked up she was gone. I couldn't recall actually hearing her parting words, but somehow I knew she had said them.  
"You're welcome, Captain."  
  
**********  
  
When I opened my eyes, all I could see was red. No details, no doors, no windows, just this blood red light wrapped around me like a blanket.  
I waited long enough to let my eyes adjust to the light before I tried to figure out what was going on. I couldn't see anything more than the faint outlines around a few doorways. The only thing I could tell for certain was that this was not a place on the station. At least, it wasn't any place I'd ever seen.  
"Hello?" My voice came back to me as a metallic echo. I decided to stay where I was, see if anyone answered.  
My patience paid off in the sound of footsteps somewhere in another corridor.  
I tried to follow the sound, going through one empty corridor after another. Corridors began to steer me into hallways, then into meeting areas. All of them were empty, but still covered by shadows.  
The footsteps seemed to be getting louder by the second. I was getting closer.  
Across the room from me was an archway -- a very large archway that I couldn't remember seeing in all of the years I'd been on the station. A shadow fell onto the floor on the other side of that archway. Its source looked human.  
"Hello?" I yelled. "Who's there?"  
The person turned their head slightly, looking as if they'd heard me. A thought nagged at my mind, the realization that there was something incredibly familiar about that shadow, something I couldn't quite place. I was about to let it bother me, until the shadow began to move away.  
I ran across the room, getting through the archway just in time to catch a glimpse of someone slipping around the next corner.  
The footsteps stopped.  
I rounded the next corner and found the mysterious person standing just a few feet away. He was draped in darkness, but I managed to figure out that he was about my height, maybe a little taller. The silhouette made me think of a person that it would be easy, but dangerous, to underestimate.  
I knew that fact better than I ever would have admitted.  
Any doubts I might have had were immediately dismissed when a painfully familiar voice reached my ears.  
"Hello, Susan."  
The next thing I knew I was sitting bolt upright in my bed. I was breathing hard, and frightened out of my wits. "Just a dream," I whispered, "it's just another damned dream."  
Was it? Every night for almost fourteen months I'd been having unusual dreams, but they'd all been about Arisia. Not once in that whole time had I had a single dream about anything else, let alone Babylon Five.  
The only problem was, this didn't feel like a dream. What it felt like was something telepathic.  
But how could something like that happen? He was supposedly in a coma. I'd only heard of one time that a telepath had managed to form a connection with a person in a coma, and it had taken Lyta Alexander to do that. Lyta, who was quite possibly the strongest telepath in human history. The coma patients she had contacted were also strong telepaths. For all I knew, Marcus wasn't a telepath.  
I couldn't believe this was happening. I might have been rated around a P8, but I had no illusions about my abilities when put up against Lyta's. It was like comparing apples and oranges.  
I curled up with the blankets, fighting desperately to get back to sleep. My mind, however, had a different agenda. There were so many possibilities. Could my telepathic abilities have been what kept him alive? Could that have hooked up some kind of connection between us? Could something like that even happen to a normal? Why hadn't I experienced anything like this before?  
I stared at the ceiling, trying to answer the endless string of questions for myself. By the time I finally fell back to sleep, all of those questions had given me one hell of a headache.

**********

"Damn it, Susan! I thought you understood this. We have to wait him out. I can't just look at a readout and say when it's going to happen. I can't even tell you if it ever will."  
Stephen Franklin was not a happy man. Then again, when I considered how much I had been badgering him that morning, I couldn't really blame him. "I do understand, Stephen. It's just, you know . . . I'm not good at patience."  
If anything, my lack of patience had become even worse in the last year, but there was no way I was telling Stephen that.  
I looked down at Marcus, sleeping peacefully on the bed. A part of me wished that damned machine had done its job and killed him, freed us both from the living hell of the last year. No one had a clue why he was still alive, not even Stephen. At least he was asleep, if a coma could be considered anywhere near sleep. Time was not passing for him.  
I felt like I'd aged ten years just in the few days since they'd told me he was alive. After last night, I was willing to make it twelve years.  
"He's not exactly the most patient person either, Susan, believe me," Stephen said, curbing his temper. "If anyone's going crazier than you about this, it's him."  
He was doing it again, talking to me like I was some kind of grieving widow. What annoyed me was that he wasn't the only one. So many people had begun walking on eggshells around me since I'd come back to the station, and it seemed like more people were doing it every day. I wasn't going to go off into a fit of hysterics at the slightest mention of his name. Couldn't they see that? I mean, sure, I was hardly the same person that left here a year ago. But I wasn't that different, was I?  
I looked up to find Stephen giving me his patented 'compassionate doctor' look. "Do you think he can hear us?" I asked.  
"Possibly. It's been known to happen."  
The dream nagged at the back of my mind. "Stephen, could he be having dreams?"  
"Well, there are reports going back for centuries of coma patients having bizarre dreams while they were under."  
"Bizarre? How?"  
A warning cloud settled over Stephen's face. "Surreal. The longer the coma, the further away from reality the patient gets. The dreams get more surreal."  
In Delenn's efforts to revive him, could she have inadvertently trapped him inside his own mind? I knew his past wasn't pleasant, and now the memories had become his only companions. The memories, and the dreams. Did I get a look at how surreal those dreams had become last night?  
"Were there any unusual readings on him last night?" I asked.  
"Nothing unusual for him," Stephen said after checking a few displays. "It looks like his neurotransmitter levels got up pretty high, but they've been fluctuating ever since we brought him back."  
"Wait a second. His neurotransmitter levels? I thought that was a telepathic signature?"  
"In your case, yes."  
"And him?" I asked.  
"Well, he doesn't carry the genetic marker, but we don't have any records of the machine draining a person that far without killing them. Having it hooked up to a telepath could create side effects all by itself. Why?"  
Why? Because I'd just had the most bizarre dream of my life? Because I was sure he'd spoken to me? Because I might have finally lost my mind?  
"Just checking," I said. "I take it you're keeping an eye on it?"  
The glare on Stephen's face said I shouldn't question his medical skills in the future.  
"Sorry. Could he be receiving a telepathic signal? Maybe be in contact with someone?"  
He checked a few readouts. "It's possible. What bugs me is that I know he's not a telepath, but those neurotransmitter levels never sink lower than what I'd expect in a P1 or a P2. Last night they got up as high as a P4. I can't figure it out."  
"What about Lyta?"  
"She might be able to make contact. I was planning to have her take a look at him when she gets back."  
My link chirped before I could say anything else.  
"Ivanova, go."  
"You might want to meet me down in Brown 12."  
In all of the years I'd known Michael Garibaldi, I had never heard him so unsettled. "What is it, Garibaldi?"  
"Something you should see."  
I almost, for a split second, thought I heard an edge of fear in Michael's voice. Nothing that struck fear into Michael Alfredo Garibaldi was allowed to happen in the same sector as Babylon Five. "I'm on my way. Ivanova out."  
I put a hand on Stephen's shoulder. "Call Lyta in on this. Something's going on, and I want to know what it is. If there's a telepath on this station that's keeping him under, tell Lyta I'll personally pay her triple to tell me who's doing it."

**********

I got to Brown 12 just in time to watch Garibaldi bark orders.  
"All right, I want everyone to block off this corridor. Cut off access to the lift. Callahan, I want you and Thomas to stay with the body until Medlab gets someone down here. Have the cameras on every angle. Nobody gets within ten feet without clearance from me, Captain Lochley or Captain Ivanova, got it?"  
A petite blonde woman nodded, "Yes, sir."  
I let the security team disperse before I let Garibaldi know I was there. "What's this about a body?"  
Michael was jumpy, too jumpy. I must have caught him off-guard. "Captain, hi. We had a report of a dead Minbari down here. When Morishi sent Callahan and Thomas down here, this came back."  
He held out his hand to me. In it was a small object that was so coated in coagulating reddish blood that I wasn't able identify it on sight. When I touched it, though, I found a familiar shape underneath that blood. I couldn't help but look down at the pin that I'd added to my uniform just a few hours before. It was about the same size as the object in my hand. My suspicions were confirmed when I managed to rub some of the bloody coating off of the smooth center, uncovering the swirling blue crystal.  
"Damn. Someone killed a Ranger down here? How?"  
"We haven't been able to find a murder weapon yet, but it looks like a knife across the throat. My guess is the killer got the drop on him."  
That was when I felt it. I couldn't quite figure out what it was, but something was brushing against the edges of my telepathic barriers. Gentle. Soft. Unobtrusive. I had to shake my head hard to get myself back on track. "Garibaldi, have you been able to figure out who the victim was?" Even I could hear the distance in my voice.  
"Identicard says his name's Rashann. Just came onto the station yesterday."  
"Any indication of where he came from?"  
Garibaldi shook his head. "I've got a trace on it right now."  
"Witnesses?"  
"Not a one. Morishi's pulling the securecam inputs right now."  
"As soon as you get anything-"  
"I'll find you. Don't worry."  
"Told Lochley yet?"  
He shook his head. "Rangers are our territory first."  
I turned back toward the lift, bothered by the fact that the telepathic presence didn't seem to want to go away. Garibaldi stopped me before I'd gone too far.  
"Ivanova, I've got a bad feeling we may be in for more."  
He was worried. "How do you figure that?"  
"Something jumped out at me when I started that trace. Before he joined the Rangers, Rashann was Religious Caste."  
"Religious Caste?" Delenn was going to have a fit when she heard about this.  
"Yes. And this looks almost like he was trying to execute the poor guy. The civil war ended almost two years ago. What could a Religious Caste Minbari have done to merit execution?"  
I was starting to see his point. "So you think we may have someone with a grudge against the Rangers?"  
"I'm not ruling it out."  
No one executed anyone, let alone a Ranger, on my station and got away with it. Okay, so I was feeling a little possessive. "You sealed off the station?"  
"Morishi did it as soon as the pin came back."  
I couldn't help but notice Callahan and Thomas standing by something covered in a white sheet. Judging by the dark red stains, I could imagine the gruesome sight that sheet hid from public view. If the killer could do that to a Minbari, a race that was so much stronger than most of the other races, I didn't even want to think about what they could to a human.  
"I want to see that file as soon as you're done briefing Lochley, Michael. Tell Stephen to hold the autopsy until we hear from his clan."  
Garibaldi took a deep breath. "Got it. After all they've done, who would want to kill a Ranger?"  
I walked away, back toward the lift. The presence was gone. Great. Not only did I have a murderer on my hands, but now something bizarre was happening to my telepathic senses. What was going on?  
"That's a very good question, Michael. A very good question."

**********

The doorbell at Delenn's door had never seemed so loud. It was Minette's voice that came through the speaker. "Yes?"  
"It's Captain Ivanova. I need to speak with Ambassador Delenn."  
I was through the door before it had finished opening. Alina stood by the dining table, sorting through more stacks of flimsies.  
"The ambassador is not available at the moment, Captain. Is this something I can help you with?"  
"I don't think so. When can I talk to her?"  
"Right now, Captain," Delenn said, sliding the bedroom door aside. She pulled the belt on her black robe around her midsection as tightly as she could before grabbing a hairbrush and almost attacking her wet hair. "My apologies for not answering right away. What is it you require?"  
"When did you get a shower put in here?"  
"Right after John and I were married."  
My smile slowly faded as I tried to figure out how to tell her my news. "I really don't know how to say this, Delenn, but I've got bad news. A Minbari Ranger named Rashann has been killed."  
The brushing stopped as Delenn's green eyes darkened. "Killed? How?"  
"Someone slit his throat," I said. "He was found in Brown Sector. We're not sure yet if he was dumped there or if that's where it happened."  
Delenn seemed unable to decide between anger and sadness at the news. "I will seek out his clan leader and inform them immediately."  
"Do you want me to tell them?"  
"No. The Rangers are my responsibility, Susan, second only to the Minbari. I will speak to Rashann's clan. Do you have any indication who might have done this?"  
"Garibaldi's doing everything in his power and then some to find out. Do you think an autopsy would offend his clan?"  
Delenn thought about this for a moment. "I am not certain. However, if the information will benefit your investigation, I believe it will be possible to convince the clan to accept this. Tell Doctor Franklin to proceed."  
"You're sure?"  
Delenn's expression was almost gloomy. "No, but I believe it is necessary. You need all of the information you can gather, correct?"  
"We don't even know if there's anything there that could help."  
"As long as you and Mister Garibaldi are investigating, Susan, you will find this person. I have faith."  
I finally tackled our only clue. "What worries me is that right now the only thing we've got to go on is the fact that he was a Ranger."  
Delenn's bright eyes widened in horror. "Surely he was not killed simply because he was with the Rangers?"  
"That's what we're going on right now. The station's locked down and I've alerted all the Rangers on board to be on their guard. If you give the word, I'll ship them out of here."  
"I do not believe that will be necessary at the moment, but I will keep it in mind."  
"Thank you. I'll let you know whatever we find."  
Delenn turned to Alina, who handed her a stack of flimsies. "When Doctor Franklin is finished with the autopsy, I will escort Rashann's body back to Minbar myself. Now, if you will excuse me, I must contact the clans and begin the preparations. As you say, good luck!"

*****

"Cause of death is obvious," Stephen said as he opened a file folder and placed it on Captain Lochley's desk. "I'm listing the mechanism of death as suffocation."  
Garibaldi perused his own copy of the file. "Suffocation? Where do you get that? Looked to me like he bled to death."  
"Michael, you still haven't told me where you got that medical degree. Minbari can handle losing a lot of blood. If this injury had been anywhere else, he might have had a chance. The problem is where the blood went."  
Lochley scanned the file in her hands. "Down his throat. Looks like Rashann was suffocated by his own blood."  
"Precisely."  
"Any defensive wounds?" I asked. "Signs he might have fought back?"  
Stephen simply shook his head.  
As I scanned the report, one detail leapt out at me. "Wait a minute. You found metallic fibers in the vertebrae?"  
"Lodged there. I'm running every test I know of on them as we speak."  
"Got anything you can tell us yet?" Lochley asked.  
"Right now," Stephen said, "all I know is that the preliminary tests say it's a metal indigenous to Minbar."  
"All roads lead to Minbar," Garibaldi muttered.  
I knew that tone all too well. "What have you got, Michael?"  
He shifted in his chair. "Well, I got the results back from the trace on Rashann's identicard. His last stop before coming here was Proxima 3. Before that, Minbar."  
"How long was he on Proxima?"  
"Eight standard days."  
"Long enough to make enemies," I mused, staring at the wall over Garibaldi's shoulder. "How many came in from there with him?"  
"That's the problem. That transport originated on Proxima 3. There were about two hundred people on board."  
Two hundred? This was getting worse by the minute. "Any of them trace back to Minbar?" I asked.  
Garibaldi shook his head.  
"Two hundred people," Lochley muttered. "We're going to need one hell of a big lineup room."  
"We're working on that, Captain. Just the strength the guy would have needed should knock a few people off the list."  
I flipped my file closed. "How about securecam? Anything there?"  
"Nothing conclusive. I've got people interviewing everyone in the footage, though."  
The station was locked down, sealed up like a tin can. Nobody could hide out for very long. "Stephen, any more clues on who could have done this?"  
The doctor paced the room slowly. "Well, judging by the angle of the incision, our killer is taller than Rashann was. I'd say he's about two to three meters tall, maybe more. Strength is definitely an issue. A person would have to be pretty strong to knife a Minbari in the throat, cut back as far as he did, and still be able to suppress a struggle."  
"I'd think it was a rogue Minbari," I thought aloud, "except Marcus told me Minbari just don't kill other Minbari."  
"I'm not ruling it out," Garibaldi said. "With all due respect, I've heard that, too. I'm *still* trying to figure out how they're going to explain that civil war."  
"A Minbari could probably do it," Stephen volunteered, "but it wouldn't be easy. Like a human doing that to another human. I don't know of too many races here with that kind of strength outside of the alien sector."  
"Oh, I just had a very bad idea," I groaned. "We've been assuming the killer got the drop on Rashann. What if he didn't? There weren't any defensive wounds. No sign of a struggle."  
I could tell from the change in Garibaldi's expression that he was beginning to understand. "What if he knew the guy?"  
"Or at least trusted him." Stephen Franklin's eyes widened at the idea. "What evidence I've seen would corroborate that."  
Lochley winced. "We've also been assuming this guy has a grudge against the Rangers. What if he's posing as one of them?"  
"Don't say that," Garibaldi said. "I don't want to think about that. Do you realize how many Rangers are still on this station?"  
"And have been told to be on their guard?"  
We simply sat and stared for a moment, the full weight of Lochley's idea sinking into all of our minds.  
"Yep," I said, "we're going to need one hell of a big lineup room."

**********

I opened my eyes to empty Zocalo storefronts staring at me from the shadows. The halogen glare of the emergency lights only made me more uneasy.  
"Hello? Marcus? Are you here?"  
Silence was the only answer I received. Curious, I slowly walked around the familiar territory. Nothing out of the ordinary leapt into view, until I rounded the corner near where the Babylon Emporium had once operated.  
There I was greeted with a sight that threatened to turn my stomach. I stood at the feet of the murdered Ranger, displayed for all the world in the gruesome detail I had only imagined.  
"I was wondering when you would get around to coming back."  
I looked into the deep shadows and came up empty. "Why?"  
"Answers."  
"To what?"  
"The murders."  
"There's only been one."  
"There will be more."  
"How do you know?"  
Footsteps answered, until a very familiar figure finally stepped out of the shadows. "I know."  
"Marcus?"  
He walked toward me, every movement more fluid than I ever thought possible. It was the Marcus Cole I remembered, but somehow not. He wasn't wearing his Ranger's uniform, just a pair of black pants and a plain white dress shirt that looked Earthforce-issue. His black hair brushed his shoulders. "Susan, you have to find whoever did this."  
"That's what I'm trying to do."  
I managed to catch his eyes as he brought them away from the corpse. In them I saw two things I had never seen before -- a combination of helplessness and absolute loathing that I hadn't though possible. "More of us will die before this is over," he whispered.  
"You know that?"  
"I'm certain of it," he said. "Mister Garibaldi was right. Why would anyone want to murder a Religious Caste Minbari? It was because he was a Ranger, Susan."  
"That's right, he was -- wait a minute, how do you know about that?"  
He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment. "No, you're not dreaming this."  
"You're starting to sound like a Vorlon, Marcus," I whispered, taking a tentative step back. "What are you talking about?"  
A tender smile curved his lips. "How did I know what you were thinking?"  
"Wait a minute, are we connected?"  
"Yes."  
"Telepathically?"  
"Probably, yes."  
I wasn't sure I liked the sound of that. "I want you out of my head."  
"Sorry, but I'm afraid that's impossible."  
"Why?"  
"Because I don't have any real control over it."  
"Sounds like-"  
"Hardwired. That's a good way of putting it."  
"Would you stop that!" I yelled. "You're going to drive me-"  
"Crazy?"  
"Marcus," I warned, backing it with a glare.  
His smug grin was back. "Sorry, couldn't resist."  
"Well, you're going to have to. It's bad enough as it is without this on top of it."  
He reached a hand toward me, brushing his fingers against my cheek. That slight touch brought with it more emotions than I'd ever felt from anyone. "I'll do my best," he said as he turned his attentions back to the murder victim at our feet. "Right now, this is more important. Every Ranger in the vicinity of Babylon Five is depending on you."  
"Marcus?"  
"They're calling you. I'll try to contact you again when it becomes necessary."  
I could hear the sound of my link chirping back in the real world, but I wasn't ready to move. "Not until I get a better explanation."  
A suggestion of annoyance hovered in those bright blue eyes. "Susan, how am I supposed to explain it to you when I'm not sure exactly what's going on myself?"  
Crossing my arms over my chest, I took a single step forward. "If this really is a telepathic connection, then you know I'm more than strong enough to keep you here."  
"Not that I'd mind."  
"If I keep you here, I won't be able to track this killer."  
We stared at each other across the silence for what seemed like an eternity, until he finally gave up. "I promise you a better explanation next time."  
"What if there isn't a next time?"  
"There will be."  
He was giving me that look again, the one that said I needed to listen to him. I'd almost forgotten how unbelievably annoying it was. It was a slow realization, but I wasn't going to be able to argue with him, at least not here. "All right, but next time I won't be so easy to get rid of."  
"Susan," he teased, "when has anything with you ever been easy?"  
Slowly, Marcus faded into the darkness. My link chirped again, louder than the last time. I was wide awake and back in the real world before I even realized it was happening. Reaching back, I recovered my link from the shelf behind my bed.  
"Ivanova, go."  
"Sorry to wake you," Garibaldi's voice said. "We've got another one."

[End Part 2 of 6]

_BABYLON 5 names, characters and all related indicia are the property of J. Michael Straczynski, TNT and Warner Brothers, a division of Time Warner Entertainment Company. All rights reserved._


	3. 

[AC][AL][MV][GD (Graphic Descriptions)]

Disclaimers: All B5 characters and settings belong to JMS and Warner Brothers and anybody else with legitimate legal claim. Don't want them, not claiming them, just borrowing them. Only one character's mine, but if the Great Maker needs her, or someone similar to her, she's his.

Spoiler warning: *Definitely* contains spoilers up to the current U.S. episodes of Season 5 (as much as I can actually use within the context of this story), as well as Book #9. *Could definitely* contain spoilers through the end of Season 5.

This is my first foray into the mystery genre, so please forgive any really glaring errors.

Big boxes of virtual Godivas to all who helped in the birth of this baby! You guys are the best!

Enough of my stalling. After some brief spoiler space for those who may not be up-to-date with the U.S.. . .

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Perpetual dedication:  
Dedicated to those of us who think there had to be a better way for Ivanova to realize it. 

*****

My stomach turned almost as quickly as my head away from the sight. This time, the knife must have been sharper. Thomas had finally found the victim's head about five full minutes after I'd arrived.  
"Identicard on the body gives his name as Jeffrey Dornan," Garibaldi announced, stepping away from the remains. "Came onto the station a week ago."  
"Any connection to Rashann?"  
"Other than they're both Rangers?"  
A rock began to float in my stomach. "Yeah?"  
"Nope."  
"Damn. So the Ranger idea was right."  
"Looks like it."  
"Told Lochley yet?"  
"Nobody can find her. She isn't answering her link."  
Lochley didn't strike me as the type to just disappear. Then again, I *had* just met the woman. "Any progress on the securecam footage?"  
Garibaldi shook his head. "Every time we think we've got a suspect, they've got an ironclad alibi. It's like this guy just disappears."  
"This is a closed station, Michael, sealed up tight. How can someone completely disappear for three whole days? What about Rashann? Have you got any more background on him?"  
"Fresh out of training when he landed on Proxima. Clean as a whistle."  
"Garibaldi!" We both turned to find Thompson running toward us. "Captain, sir, we've got another victim."  
"Where?" Garibaldi asked, gesturing toward one of the other security officers. "Is he alive?"  
"Yes, sir. Alive, but injured. I contacted Medlab. They have a team on the way." Thompson took a deep breath before continuing. "Sir, it's Captain Lochley."  
I felt my heart sink to somewhere around my feet. When I looked at Garibaldi, I saw the same horrified expression. "Damn," we said simultaneously.  
"Was anyone there with her?" Garibaldi spat.   
"No, sir. He got away."  
"I'll wait on you in Medlab, Michael."

*****

What I could see of Elizabeth Lochley's body looked like she had been through a small-scale war. Bandages covered her arms to the elbows. Stephen had her head immobilized by one of those godforsaken halos. The blood-soaked dressing over her throat looked to be the only thing holding it together. Her face was covered in bruises. I didn't have to be in the room to feel the kind of agony that she was broadcasting. It battered at the edges of my telepathic awareness like a destroyer.  
Judging by Stephen Franklin's reaction to my arrival, the discomfort must have leaked through onto my face. "I just gave her the general anesthesia, Captain. She should be out soon," he said through the protective mask. "Though I don't know how much help she's going to be when she comes to."  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
"It means that whoever attacked her almost got what he wanted. Her vocal chords have been sliced in two. There are knife wounds in both hands, and nerve damage that I may never be able to repair. When she regains consciousness she won't be able to talk or write. I've removed her from duty indefinitely. I had Doctor Hobbs put an emergency call in to Lyta. The problem is she won't be able to get back for about a week."  
I felt like someone had hit me in the gut. I absolutely hated feeling this helpless. "Not going to work, Stephen. Who knows how many more people this guy could take out in a week. Any of Byron's people still around?"  
"Nope," Garibaldi said, walking into the room. "Not even a straggler. That entire section is clean as a whistle."  
"If any of them were still here, they must have felt it coming. I'll see if Corwin can find any other telepaths on the station."  
Stephen raised one eyebrow. "I can think of one."  
I answered Garibaldi's questioning look with a shake of my head. "Last resort, Stephen."  
"Your call," he said, returning his attentions to the patient before him. "For their sake, Susan, I hope you're right."  
"Great," Garibaldi groaned. "Could this guy have hit better targets? Who's going to take over this station, Corwin?"  
"No," I said, tapping my link. "Ivanova to C&C."  
"Yes, ma'am?" Corwin's voice answered.  
"Are there any command rank Earthforce officers on board?"  
"Other than you and Captain Lochley?"  
"Yes."  
After a brief silence, Corwin replied, "No, Captain."  
"Thank you, Lieutenant. Ivanova out."  
I found all eyes turned toward me. I didn't want it back this way, but there was no way to ignore the fact that the station, my home, needed me. "Okay, unless anybody has any objections, until Lochley can return to duty, I'm taking over."  
Stephen looked up from his work. "No objections. Just so you know, it might become a permanent assignment."  
"As soon as you're sure Lochley won't be returning to duty, we'll call Earthdome. Michael?"  
Garibaldi held up his hands. "Hey, I'm all for it."  
"Ivanova to C&C."  
"Yes, Captain?" came Corwin's voice.  
"Lieutenant, inform all personnel that due to a medical emergency I'll be taking command of this station beginning immediately."  
"Medical emergency, Captain?"  
I tried not to sound too impatient with him. "Captain Lochley has been seriously injured. Doctor Franklin has temporarily relieved her of duty. Until she is classified as fit to return, I'll be taking over for her. Understood?"  
"Understood, Captain." I almost heard the smile on Corwin's face as he said, "Welcome back."  
"Thank you, C&C, Ivanova out."  
I started to pace the immediate area, frantically searching for options. Out of a quarter-million people, we were looking for just one. It was like that old proverb Grandma had loved, something about a needle in a haystack. I'd always wondered why the person didn't just get a magnet.  
"Just get a magnet," I said, smiling. "Could it be that easy?"  
"What?"  
"Have you ever tried to find a needle in a haystack, Michael?"  
He stared at me, not quite following my train of thought. "No. What's that got to do with this?"  
"Everything. As soon as you're done here, find me."

*****

I paced my office, feeling like the proverbial cat that ate the equally proverbial canary. It couldn't be this easy, could it? After all, it was my plan, and my plans usually worked.  
"Sorry that took so long," Garibaldi said, rounding the corner into the office.  
"Not a problem, Michael. Not a problem."  
"Okay, what's this about a magnet?" he asked, taking the seat before the desk.  
"We're going to make him come to us." I picked up a data crystal from the desk. "See this? It's the entire enlistment roster for the Rangers. I've got C&C checking it against the customs records right now to find out who's on the station.  
"This is the plan. When C&C comes through with the list, isolate everyone on it. Move them to a safe area. I think there's still that place we used a few years ago for the telepath conference. Let them crew a White Star if you absolutely have to, but one of us has to check it out personally first."  
Garibaldi raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Ivanova, if this guy is posing as one of the Rangers, wouldn't that be a little dangerous?"  
"Not if we do a good job with filtering the real Rangers out." I slowly sank into the chair. Yes, this plan could work. "That isn't all of it. Too many of them disappearing will be suspicious. Delenn told me where to find some spare uniforms. Ask for volunteers, pick the best people, and distribute them."  
"You do realize what you're asking."  
"They're going to be walking targets, yes. But at most there will only be five or six of them. Five or six are much easier to keep track of than two or three hundred, right?"  
I hated the fact that whoever this was had picked the precise moment when almost every Ranger in that area of the galaxy had been visiting the station. No matter what else I thought of him, Marcus did have a lot of friends.  
"What about Marcus?" Garibaldi asked. "He's sort of a sitting duck in Medlab."  
"He's never alone, Michael," I said with a slight smile. If I was going to be cursed with a connection to him, at least it might save his life. I could try to return the favor. "There's always someone keeping an eye on him. He'll be fine."  
"You mind if I put a guard on him, just to be safe?"  
I shrugged. "Couldn't hurt. Go ahead."  
I could feel Garibaldi's discomfort. He really didn't like the idea of putting his people in that kind of jeopardy. "Okay," I conceded. "If they want, take an extremely limited number of Ranger volunteers. Maybe a dozen, tops. Make sure they stay in teams. No one is left alone for a second. Make sure they know the risk they're taking. If they check out, and want PPGs, they can have them."  
"PPGs? I thought the Rangers didn't carry those."  
"Normally, they don't. There might be a few with experience, though."  
I felt my own nerves begin to jangle at the thought of allowing the Rangers into this situation. Delenn had left me in command of the Rangers when she'd left for Minbar, and I was feeling a little overprotective.  
A question quietly appeared in my mind. If I were in their position, wouldn't I want to help, even if it meant putting my own life at risk? Yes, I would, and with the way my luck seemed to run it would get me killed.  
"Garibaldi, if they're after Rangers, any ideas on why they hit Lochley?"  
He shrugged. "Could be trying to draw us off the Ranger idea, or maybe she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."   
"What do you think?"  
"Until Lyta gets a scan on her, wrong place, wrong time."  
I nodded. "Me, too. Lochley's not close enough to the Rangers."  
Garibaldi stood up. "Now, if I were paranoid, I might think that Lochley got hit just to put you in that chair."  
The suggestion intrigued me. "Okay, I'll bite. Why would they want me in command of the station?"  
"Rangers are getting hit. That tells me that whatever is stewing in this guy's head dates back to the Shadow War."  
"You're sure?"  
"The Rangers didn't have as big a role in the civil war, did they?"  
"No."  
He leaned his hands on the back of the chair. "With the President and Delenn gone, that puts you at the head of the Rangers, right?"  
"Locally, yes."  
"You weren't exactly low profile in the Shadow war, Susan. Hell, you led it while Sheridan was on Z'ha'dum. Anybody with a grudge against us is going to know who you are."  
I leaned back into the chair. "Then why not attack me directly?"  
"You've already come back from the dead once. How do they know you couldn't do it a second time? Besides, there's another way to ruin someone's life besides killing them. You have a rep as a warrior. You lead people into battle. You also have this nasty little habit of bringing most, if not all, of your people back with you. Could they find a better way to destroy you than killing your own people out from under you?"  
"When I can't do a damned thing about it," I groaned. "I see where you're going, but how does Lochley fit in?"  
"Double whammy. How would it look to Earthdome if you can't find this guy when you're running the Rangers *and* the station? When you've got everything in the area at your disposal?"  
"Like gross incompetence. Guaranteed loss of command. I'd probably be lucky not to get bumped back to commander."  
"Your life-"  
"-would be ruined," I finished. "You're scaring me, Garibaldi."  
He pushed himself away from the chair. "You should be. Hell, I'm scared. There is one thing they haven't banked on, though."  
"And that is?"  
Garibaldi's patented grin decided to make an appearance. "You've got me on your side."

**********

These damned carrots were just not going to cooperate. The doorbell rang as I was reaching for a sharper knife.  
"Come in," I shouted.  
Stephen Franklin came walking through the door. I felt more than saw his surprise at the sight of what I was doing. "I've got to be in the wrong place. Is that Susan Ivanova cooking?"  
"Yes," I replied drily. "I do have a few talents you don't know about, Doctor."  
Scooping the chopped carrots into the rest of the ingredients, I emptied the bowl into the pan that rested on the stovetop. I set the timer to make sure they didn't get overcooked. "I do cook from time to time, much as I know it amazes everybody else. Go ahead, have a seat."  
Stephen did as he was told, sitting on the sofa. "You still haven't told me why you invited me over for dinner."  
"Well, I thought we could use a break from this investigation. I also really just wanted to thank you."  
"Thank me?"  
"For talking me down that night."  
It took a second for Stephen to realize what I was talking about. "You mean, the night-"  
"-the night they told me what happened," I finished for him. "You helped me out more than you realize."  
"No," Stephen said, shaking his head. "I didn't tell you he was alive. I should have told you as soon as I was sure."  
"No. You shouldn't have. You did the right thing by not telling me. I know it's been bugging you. Delenn's irritated with you about it. She won't *tell* you, but she is *royally* ticked off. I just want you to know I'm not mad."  
"You're not mad? Hell, I'd be bouncing me off of every wall in the station. Susan, he's in a coma. You may be here for nothing. He may never wake up. He may die before he wakes up."  
"Or he may wake up tomorrow," I said. "He may be awake right now. You don't know and that bothers the hell out of you, doesn't it, Doc?"  
Stephen ran a hand over his head. "Yes, it does. But you don't owe me dinner for that. Hell, if you owe me anything it's a slap across the face."  
"No. You saved me from spending the last year of my life sitting in an office pining over a dead man." I shook my head at the irony. "Granted, I was pining anyway, but at least on the Valkyrie they had no idea what was going on. They just thought I was broody.  
"Don't worry about when he's going to wake up. There's one thing I've tried to accept in the last year -- don't worry about things that are out of your control. It will kill you."  
Stephen pulled himself out of the sofa, walking over to where I was standing. "Well, one thing's for sure, you certainly aren't the same person that left here a year ago, are you?"  
"No. That's another thing that's got me worried." I struggled to find the right words. "Afraid, really. I'm afraid, Stephen."  
"Afraid of what?" the doctor asked in a voice edged with disbelief.  
"I'm afraid that when he wakes up-"  
"You'll be there, don't worry about it."  
"Oh, I know I'll be there. I don't care what I have to do, what I have to get, who I may have to kill. I will be there when he opens his eyes if it's the last thing I do. Even if I have to fight to live that long, I will do it. If it's within my power, I will make sure he wakes up. He will wake up." I forced a smile onto my face. "He hasn't come through all of this just to leave without saying goodbye. Wouldn't be polite."  
We both shared a small nervous laugh.  
"Would you have told him before, Susan?"  
"Told him what?"  
"This. What I saw that night. Why didn't you ever tell him how you felt?"  
I laughed at my own cowardice. "I was afraid, Stephen. Everyone I have ever loved in my entire life died. I thought that if I told him, he'd die, too. Never had a clue that he'd die even if I *didn't* tell him. I didn't think it would hurt so much if he never knew. That somehow we'd both be better off. You have no idea how monumentally stupid that was."  
"It wasn't-"  
"It was. He may have saved my life, but I spent the last year convinced I'd lost a part of myself in the process."  
His hand came to rest on my shoulder. "Susan Ivanova, cook *and* philosopher? Who'd have thought?"  
"Hey, there were some great Russian philosophers in history." Smiling, I took a deep breath. "Stephen?"  
"Yes?"  
"Why don't you tell Alina that you like her?"  
Stephen gave me a glare. "Why are you playing matchmaker?"  
"Don't *ever* try to bluff a telepath, Stephen. I'm playing matchmaker because I can tell you like her. She's too busy, she's just like you are. Overworked and underappreciated."  
"Delenn appreciates her," he countered.  
"And so do you! Tell her. Don't make the same mistake I did."  
"You trust her?"  
"Not sure yet. I don't get anything bad from her. I get the impression she -- she's devoted to Delenn, to the Rangers, but she's overwhelmed by it all. But that's just from talking to her. I can't get a single telepathic reading from her, Stephen. Normally, I can hear everybody's thoughts. I hear yours now, and no, I haven't gone crazy. I can block them out, being captain of the Valkyrie taught me that. But I just don't hear her at all. It's almost like -- Stephen, she isn't a telepath, is she?"  
He pursed his lips. "Not that she's told me."  
"The only way -- she couldn't be. I couldn't hear Lyta when I walked into that party. But Lyta could block out pretty much anybody."  
"Do you really think Alina might be a telepath?"  
I had to shrug. "Maybe."  
The stove's timer sounded. "Come on. Dinner's ready. Plant it and we'll figure out what to do about you and Alina."  
Dinner went peacefully. We told each other a lot of humorous stories. Stephen told me about everything that had happened since I'd left, especially the rather interesting events surrounding my replacement.  
I could only marvel at the fact that John Sheridan could be so unpredictable as to personally choose his own ex-wife to run the station. It certainly explained why he would have chosen someone he had fought against. Then again, who better to know where all of Lochley's weaknesses lie, even the ones the military didn't normally exploit. He would know how Lochley could get hit so it hurt, and hurt bad.  
I told Stephen about the year on the Valkyrie; the loneliness, the isolation that had come with command, how much I'd missed everyone, how I couldn't come back. There were too many memories. I had promised myself months before that I would come back for a visit when I could control the memories, keep them from taking over. I wasn't quite sure I had them under control, but being home was better than another ship out on the Rim.  
"So, you going to take her out to dinner?" I finally asked.  
Stephen just looked at me. "I'll tell you what, I'll take her out to dinner if you swear to me by everything you consider holy that as soon as Marcus wakes up you'll tell him everything."  
I thought I had, but there was no way I was telling Stephen that. Something told me to play dumb, to forget the dream. Even though I was sure I'd made contact with Marcus, I still wasn't too sure about where everything stood. It took a few deep breaths before I was able to find my voice. "I don't know, Stephen. He might take one look at me and decide to hell with it, that he was better off dead."  
"The Marcus I know wouldn't do that, not in a million years. He's been in love with you since the day he met you. I know that for a fact. Nothing's going to change that."  
What if? What if he closed his eyes and died the second he saw me, happy to know that all of his efforts had worked? What if he died right then? I came to the conclusion that maybe I could get past that now.  
The feelings from my dreams slowly came back. I had sworn to myself years ago that nobody would ever intrude on something like that again the day my mother had died, and now someone had done just that.  
And I realized that it didn't bother me as much as I'd thought.  
"You've got a deal, Stephen."

**********  
  
I couldn't quite believe where I was standing. He'd been declared dead, station resources were at a minimum, so why hadn't they reallocated his quarters?  
I could still remember the day I'd managed to find this place for him. By my standards, they were ridiculously small. I'd even told him as much, promised him larger quarters as soon as they opened up, but he'd declined. He'd said he didn't need much space.  
For once, he hadn't been joking.  
"So this is what they mean by spartan."  
I couldn't help but wonder what had happened that could have caused this. The room looked more like a visitors' quarters than someone who actually lived on the station. The floors were bare. The sconces were the only decorations on the walls. Outside of the bed, a stuffed chair was the only other piece of furniture in the room. I'd seen prison cells with more personality.  
A glint of gold caught my attention. It was coming from a small shelf set into the wall beside the bed. Two framed pictures peeked out of the shadows. The light hit the edge of a golden-framed photo of what looked like his parents. I'd only seen one other picture of his parents, on the chart that was still packed away somewhere in my quarters, but the resemblance was unmistakable.  
It was the other photo that kept me interested from the instant I caught sight of it. Of the three people in the picture, the only one I recognized with any certainty was Marcus.  
"How old is this?"  
Standing next to Marcus were a young woman and an even younger boy. His brother? If so, who was the girl? Marcus had never mentioned a sister, but my instincts told me that whoever she was, she wasn't a relative. The family resemblance between Marcus and the other boy was obvious to anyone, but the girl's red hair and green eyes screamed friend, not relative. She looked vaguely familiar. I was surprised to discover that I couldn't place the face at all. Who was she? Why hadn't Marcus ever mentioned her?  
Why did it suddenly matter?  
Forcing myself away from the photograph, my eyes landed on the extremely small library of books. How had he managed real books? No one owned real books anymore. It was just so much like him.  
All of the writers I expected were there, Shakespeare, Dickens, even Byron. One of the authors stuck out like a sore thumb.  
"Marcus Aurelius? Where the hell did he get that?"  
I slipped the book from its surroundings, wincing when the book crackled as I opened it. I had only read the book once before, and I still dreaded the sight of the words.  
A whisper of paper against paper made its way to my ears. Reaching down, I discovered an envelope that had fallen to the floor. From touching it, I knew it was very old paper, certainly centuries older than the pages of the book. Of all the races I knew, only the Minbari could create paper that would last for centuries. The envelope had been meant for Marcus, but there was something incredibly familiar about the handwriting. Opening the envelope, I pulled out a folded piece of paper. Opening it, I discovered a short thank-you note. Two small sentences. Gratitude from two people, friendship, and a thought that they might meet again in a better, brighter future.  
A future that would never be, and not entirely because of what Marcus had done. It would never be simply because the person that had written this note had traveled a thousand years into the past.  
It had taken much longer than I would have liked, but I had finally recognized the handwriting.  
"My God. Jeff. Marcus, what else haven't you told me?"  
Re-folding the paper, I slipped it back into the envelope. I had come in search of answers, trying to learn more about the man that was willing to give his own life to me. I had only come across more questions. Who was the girl in that picture? What had he done to deserve a message of gratitude from a thousand years in the past, if Jeff had really left it for him centuries ago?  
Holding the picture of the girl, I left Marcus' quarters. It was time to get some sleep.  
  
*****  
  
If there was one thing I hated in the universe, it was not being in control when something was happening to me. I was surrounded by a very low light this time, low enough to cover everything around me in shadows.  
I was really beginning to hate shadows.  
I opened my mouth to call for the lights, but the door opened before I could say anything. The light that came through that open door was blinding. Once my eyes had adjusted, I realized that I was in my old quarters on the station.  
A silhouette appeared in the doorway. "Your old quarters?" Marcus asked. "Yes, of course. Nice to know someone finally came around."  
I wasn't in the mood for the flattery. "We need to talk."  
"I know. You have questions." He walked into the room, but the door stayed open. "You wanted an explanation for all of this."  
I could feel him searching for a way to proceed. "Best I can tell is that this is all because of that machine. If I'd had any idea that you were a telepath . . . but no one knew that, did they? I'm fairly certain that the energy it put into you is what brought your abilities out. It was supposed to kill me. I think your telepathic abilities just might have been what saved my life."  
"How?"  
He shook his head. "It's silly, really."  
"That doesn't matter. Any theory is better than nothing."  
"Do you know the concept of a feedback loop?" he asked.  
"Yes."  
"Well, I think when your telepathic abilities started to come out, it set up some sort of loop. Fed some of the energy back to me."  
I thought about it for a second, and wasn't sure whether or not to worry about the fact that I could understand the logic. It certainly explained one thing. "So, that's what set up this connection. It is telepathic."  
He looked surprised. "You're sure?"  
"Fairly. After that first time you contacted me, I asked Stephen if anything strange registered in Medlab. He said your neurotransmitters went up to what he'd expect in a P4. That machine can work on a genetic level. It's the only thing that really makes sense. Can you only reach me when I'm asleep?"  
He shook his head slowly. I could feel his frustration. "I'm not quite sure of that yet. All I've got right now is a theory. You see, I can contact you when you're awake."  
"That's how you knew about the murder," I said as more of it made sense. "The feeling I was getting, that someone was trying to contact me. That was you."  
"Exactly. That's the best I can do when you're awake."  
"How? I always thought telepaths had to be on a line-of-sight to make contact?"  
"Lyta doesn't."  
"Then it must be like-"  
"A kind of hardwiring. It's difficult to put into words."  
I swallowed what was left of my pride. "Think about it," I whispered.  
"Susan. You can't be . . . you are serious. You've made it perfectly clear you don't like this."  
"No, I don't like it. I've spent the last twenty years trying to ignore the fact that I was a telepath. I can't do that anymore, Marcus. I just need time to get used to it. Now, think about it."  
Closing my eyes, I lowered all of the barriers and allowed the idea to come into my mind. All of the details appeared. I understood the basic theory already, but it seemed that the details involved some things I hadn't even considered. His reasoning was that the surprise of being pulled back from death caused me to reach out the only way I could, telepathically, connecting to his mind. The machine followed that closed circle, distributing his life energy between the two of us, healing just enough of the damage it had inflicted on Marcus to keep him alive. It must have somehow copied the telepathic gene from my DNA into his in the process.  
Stephen had been wrong from the start. It did work in reverse, there were just some incredibly unusual circumstances that had to take place.  
"Make sense now?" Marcus asked.  
"Yes. I don't know how, but it does. Marcus-"  
"It won't work, Susan," he said, his mind jumping onto another tangent.  
"What won't work?"  
"Your plan."  
"Why?"  
Marcus shrugged. "It's good, but it's too logical. Limiting the number of targets won't put a stop to the killing. It will only get you another dead Ranger. Maybe more than one."  
"But, Garibaldi is assigning them in teams. Can't one protect the other?"  
"You know just as well as I do how easy it is to separate a team."  
"We have never been a team," I said. "Get that straight right now, Marcus."  
He turned on me with a smug grin. "Now who's having delusions?"  
"Weren't you the one who said that if you're going to have delusions, you might as well go for the really satisfying ones?"  
He was right about the two of us. I knew it. If he wanted me to admit it, however, he was going to have to check the temperature in hell first.  
"Feels perfectly comfortable to me."  
"Non sequitur?"  
"You were thinking something about the temperature in hell? Thought that's where I've been."  
"If you're in hell," I said, "why are you acting so normally?"  
He smiled. "Because you showed up."  
"What?"  
"You heard me."  
Yes, I had heard him. Understanding, however, was a different story. "What do I have to do with it? I always thought you liked being by yourself."  
"Susan, how long has it been since you were the *only* companion you had?"  
"I'm pretty used to being my own company, Marcus. Before you came along-"  
He cut me off. "I don't mean just physical company, Susan. I'm willing to bet you've had this telepathic cloud over you your whole life. Have you ever had a day when you have not heard *anyone* else's thoughts or feelings?"  
He had me there. "No."  
"Well, let's just say that my idea of hell has become an eternity with just myself to keep me company."  
"Then, why did you walk away when I showed up here the first time?"  
"I wasn't sure you were real."  
Something about this place had to be different, because I could see how lost he was when he looked up at me. He was trapped in his own personal hell, and he had put himself there willingly to save my life. I couldn't think of what to say in return, except admit the truth.  
"Okay, maybe you're right. Maybe we *did* make a fairly good team."  
"Fairly good?" he asked, amused. "Well, I supposed it's a start." The smile on his face reinforced the emotions I was picking up. He was happy to finally hear me admit it.  
I wanted to tell him that we probably weren't working from the same definition of 'team,' but I couldn't. Admitting that changed things for me. Maybe the feelings I was getting from him were infectious, maybe I'd brought them here with me. One way or the other, he was right.  
It was a start.  
In the blink of an eye, the moment was gone. "She's dead, Susan."  
"Who's dead?"  
"The girl in the photograph." He mentioned it, and the picture appeared in his hand, complete with its golden frame. I was hit by a wave of sadness from him. Sadness tinged with regret.  
"Did you love her?" I asked.  
"Her? No. Not the way you're thinking. We grew up together."  
Now I understood the regret. "How did she die?"  
The vision of an enormous, white-hot explosion in space filled my mind. I involuntarily blinked to clear my vision.  
"It was near the end of the Minbari War," he whispered. "The transport she was on exploded."  
I'd seen reports after the Minbari had surrendered of Earth military transport ships that had been nothing more than flying deathtraps, so many spare parts stuck together with not much more than adhesive and a prayer. No matter how hard I tried, though, I couldn't think of a single one that had actually exploded.  
"It wasn't a military transport, Susan."  
The word formed in my mind. "She was a telepath?"  
He nodded. "And a telekinetic. Strong one, too. Completely stable. I know it sounds impossible, but it's true. She left for the Psi Corps base on Mars the day after that party. Her transport left hyperspace on its last stop before Mars, and exploded a few seconds after coming out of the jumpgate. The stop was too close to the Minbari front. The reports I read said there wasn't even enough of the ship left for the salvage companies." He shook his head. "I suppose it was for the best, really. From what I've seen of the Corps, she wouldn't have survived long anyway. Conformity was never exactly her strong suit."  
"I'm sorry," I said, knowing full well how inadequate it sounded. "But, you're right. She's better off. The sleepers-" A chill ran down my spine at the memory of Momma's last few days. She'd been nothing more than a shell by then. I didn't want to think of anyone else having to go through that kind of torture. "Let's just say she would have stopped being the person you grew up with."  
"Your mother," he whispered. "Is that who I have to thank for this?"  
There he was, saving me from myself again. Sometimes I found his white knight routine annoying, then there were times like this when I was actually grateful for it. Anything was better than the memories.  
I rolled my eyes at him. "No. That would have to be your own stupidity."  
"Stupidity?" he asked, sounding quite insulted. "It worked, didn't it?"  
The general idea of his thoughts came into my mind. I couldn't believe what I was sensing. The worst part of it was that he actually believed the ridiculous notion. "Marcus, you've been declared dead! A full metabolic shutdown is *working* to you? This . . . this telepathic connection, this is your definition of *working*?"  
He just shrugged. "Granted, there were a few unforeseen side effects, but it did work better than I expected."  
"Marcus!" Unforeseen side effects. He was beginning to sound like a mad scientist.  
"While you're berating me, don't forget one thing. My original intent was simply to save your life. That part worked. Whether or not I lived made absolutely no difference to me."  
My own sense of guilt stabbed at me. He was, in his own irritating way, absolutely right. Stephen had told me about Marcus accessing every file in the Medlab database relating to the healing machine. He had known full well what it was capable of doing to me -- and to him.  
I had been dying, felt it getting closer, even been ready to welcome it, but I was still alive. What right did I have to complain about a few annoying side effects?  
I felt his anger flare up. "But maybe you're right. I probably should have given it more thought. You were dying. Pardon me for acting on sentiment." He turned on me, hands on his hips and bitterness in his voice. "Next time, would you prefer I wait until that millisecond when your brainwaves go flat? Now that I'm *quite* familiar with that precise moment, I should be able to spot it."  
I couldn't help but step back from him. "You don't have to rub it in. I get the picture." I had only known him a couple of years, but I'd never seen him so irritated with anyone. No, he wasn't just irritated. He was actually being nasty about the whole thing.  
"You're welcome," he spat, then walked away.  
My heart fell to somewhere around my feet, taking my anger with it. He had every right to be mad at me. From what I'd been told, he had brought me back from what was certain death not once, but twice. He'd even been willing to pay for my life with his own. How could I have been so wrapped up in my own interests? I could barely even look at him to speak. "I can't believe I haven't even thanked you."  
"Not that it matters. I am quite accustomed to thankless jobs."  
The arrogance of that comment got me angry. "Did you ever, for one second, think I actually *wanted* you to do that? I heard you, you know. I heard everything you said to me."  
"Everything?" he asked, looking like a kid caught in a lie.  
"Everything." I thought I had the emotions under control, but I was wrong. I could feel the breakdown coming on. A couple of deep breaths brought my composure back, but my voice was still shaking. "Did you know I woke up? Did you know that I tried to unhook you, but that damned halo wouldn't let me move? God dammit, Marcus! I know. I understand. You couldn't stand by and watch someone you loved die. Did you think it would be that easy for me?"  
"Actually, I hoped you wouldn't wake up until after-"  
"After you were dead?"  
He nodded.  
"Well, you hoped wrong." I closed my eyes against the memory replaying in my mind. The feeling of death fading away as the life energy from his body was transferred into mine; the sensation of the machine connected to my wrist; the increasing weight of his head next to mine on the pillow; screaming for help when I finally figured out what was happening.  
The gut-wrenching second I realized it was too late.  
"But you weren't too late, Susan," he whispered. "I'm still alive because of you." He slipped a hand under my chin, pulling me around to face him. I opened my eyes to find him looking at me with a sad smile. "We both finally know the truth. Do you really need to know more than that?"  
"Maybe I do. I was afraid-"  
"The woman who basically claimed to be the right hand of God is afraid of me?"  
I tried to shake my head. He was doing it again. How did I survive the last year without this? "No, not you."  
"I heard you, too, Susan."  
"What?"  
"The first thing I heard after I woke up here was your voice. I heard what you said."  
The darkness began to creep closer to us, cutting into my field of vision. In the blink of an eye, he was gone. "Marcus?"  
The last thing I heard was his voice in my mind. "Be careful, love. Life is too short."  
I opened my eyes to the near-darkness of my new quarters.  
"Life is too short," I whispered.  
*Only those whose lives are brief can imagine that love is eternal. You should embrace that remarkable illusion.*  
Lorien's words echoed through my memory. The oldest sentient being in the galaxy, thousands of years older than the Vorlons, and his people could still die. He'd told me as much. That just proved that nothing in the universe was truly eternal.  
He had been right about one thing, though. The imagination could be very powerful.  
The cynic in me screamed that I was deluding myself. I was just dreaming. I wasn't really speaking to a man that was in a coma, tucked away in another part of the station. It was just my subconscious trying to deal with the fact that Marcus was still alive. That's all the dreams were, nothing more.  
But he *was* still alive.  
Alive, and registering the neurotransmitter levels of a certifiable telepath. Telepaths could contact each other, even if one was in a coma.  
Not *every* telepath needed to be on a line-of-sight to make contact.  
So many undeniable truths, enough to convince me that Lorien was right.  
It really was a remarkable illusion.

[End Part 3 of 6]

_BABYLON 5 names, characters and all related indicia are the property of J. Michael Straczynski, TNT and Warner Brothers, a division of Time Warner Entertainment Company. All rights reserved._


	4. 

[AC][AL][GD (Graphic Descriptions)][V (Not quite mild violence, not quite extreme violence)]  
  
Disclaimers: All B5 characters and settings belong to JMS and Warner Brothers and anybody else with legitimate legal claim. Don't want them, not claiming them, just borrowing them. Only one character's mine, but if the Great Maker needs her, or someone similar to her, she's his.  
  
Spoiler warning: *Definitely* contains spoilers up to the current U.S. episodes of Season 5 (as much as I can actually use within the context of this story), as well as Book #9. *Could definitely* contain spoilers through the end of Season 5.  
  
This is my first foray into the mystery genre, so please forgive any really glaring errors.  
  
Big boxes of virtual Godivas to all who helped in the birth of this baby! You guys are the best!  
  
Enough of my stalling. After some brief spoiler space for those who may not be up-to-date with the U.S.. . .  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Perpetual dedication:  
Dedicated to those of us who think there had to be a better way for Ivanova to realize it.   
  
  
******  
  
Going back to Earhart's was something I had been looking forward to. Everything was just how I remembered it, with one small exception. Somewhere along the line, they'd opened the doors to the Rangers.  
I counted uniforms, and came up with nine human Rangers, all of them mingling with Earthforce officers. Good. Maybe the Earthforce rats would learn a thing or two.  
One of the Rangers I spotted was Alina. She was sitting with Stephen, laughing like someone had just told her the funniest joke she'd ever heard.  
I slid up to the bar, and a drink appeared before I'd even had the chance to order. One sip told me that it was a half-decent pint of ale. I would have preferred vodka, but this would do.  
Funny, two years ago I wouldn't have touched a pint of ale.  
I shrugged off the idea and handed the bartender my credit chit.  
When I turned back to the room, it felt like every Ranger in the place was staring at me. In a way, I could understand what they must have been going through, what it felt like to be hunted. The days when I had been near the top of Clark's most-wanted list were still fresh in my memory.  
A couple of the Rangers gave me curt, but polite nods. A few others smiled and lifted their glasses toward me. I memorized each face, chalking them up as potential allies simply by their reaction to my presence. The more chilly receptions, however, I gave more attention. If I'd learned anything from Garibaldi, it was to keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.  
"Susan!"  
I turned toward the voice and found Stephen gesturing me to their table. I didn't want to disturb their night, but standing at the bar by myself was getting to be depressing. Besides, they were offering, right?  
So, I went over.  
"Come to check up on me?" Stephen asked.  
"No, just needed to get away."  
"You're more than welcome to join us, Captain," Alina said.  
It took a little convincing for them to get me to sit down, but eventually I ended up in the chair beside Alina. The waiter showed up with another round of drinks, completely unasked.  
"So, Captain, how are you settling in?" Alina asked.  
"Okay, I guess. I never realized how much I missed a hot water shower, though."  
Stephen gave me a sarcastic look. "You got command of the most advanced Earth destroyer in history and you're complaining about the shower?"  
"You should have seen the utility closet that passed for my office," I said. "Give me White Star 3 any day."  
Alina raised an eyebrow. "And what do you know, that's precisely what President Sheridan did. Funny, that."  
The smile on her face was the only thing that told me she was joking.  
I stared at her for a couple of seconds, dropping the telepathic barriers and allowing the white noise of thoughts into my mind. It took a lot of concentration just to separate the voices, even more to localize the voices I was listening for. I found Stephen, wondering just what I was doing.  
I *still* couldn't hear Alina.  
I threw the barriers back up, praying no one had noticed.  
Alina simply stared directly at me, smiling like a Cheshire cat.  
"Back to your old uniform, Captain?" she asked. "I must say, I like the new addition. Is that what I think it is?"  
I looked down at my uniform. Since I was officially representing the Alliance again, I had made a conscious decision that morning to go back to wearing my black uniform. It was essentially the same one I'd worn throughout the Shadow War, with a few minor modifications to bring it up to date. I'd pulled my statbar off of my Earthforce uniform, but I was having trouble trying to figure out where to put my Earthforce rank patches. The new addition Alina was referring to was attached to the vest over my uniform.  
"Yes, it is," I told her, cradling the Ranger pin in the palm of my hand. "I'm not doing something offensive by wearing it, am I?"  
"If anyone finds it offensive, Captain, consider them merely uninformed. You are in an extremely unique position. There has never been a single leader of the Rangers, even on a local level, that was not a trained member. I believe President Sheridan may be the closest until now, but he has never had sole leadership. You have led us more times than you realize, Captain, only now it's official. You have every right to wear it, and I believe he would approve, as would Delenn."  
"He?" Stephen asked. "He who?"  
"Marcus," I told him. "This is his."  
Stephen shook his head. "And I thought you were bad before."  
"What's *that* supposed to mean?" I asked, indignant.  
"'For aught that I could ever read, / Could ever hear by tale or history, / The course of true love never did run smooth,'" Alina said.  
"I've heard that before. What's it from?" Stephen asked.  
She smiled shyly. "Shakespeare. A Midsummer Night's Dream. It was a favorite of mine when I was a teenager."  
I quietly watched her for a few seconds. There were times when she reminded me too much of Marcus. Had their paths ever crossed during their time in the Rangers? That certainly could explain a lot. "Alina?"  
"Yes, Captain?"  
"What made you join the Rangers?"  
The non-sequitur threw her off. "Well, a friend asked for my help, and I said yes."  
"A friend?" Stephen asked.  
"A friend," she stated. "He passed on a couple of years ago."  
"During the Shadow War?" I asked.  
"Yes," she whispered. "He never returned from a mission here."  
I felt a brief stab of guilt. Was I the one who sent her friend to his fate? "Alina, I'm-"  
"-sorry? Don't be. He wouldn't tell anyone, but I know that he was aware of what he was getting into when he left. He knew he wouldn't come back."  
Stephen reached out and took her hand. "But you stuck with the Rangers, right? Delenn saw that, and made you her assistant. Now, you're here."  
"Yes," she said, forcing a smile. "Thanks to Rathenn I am here, and I have a whole new array of friends."  
"Rathenn?" Stephen asked. "I've heard that name a lot tonight. You two close?"  
Alina shrugged. "As close as a human can get to a former Satai, I suppose."  
Stephen looked worried. "Involved?"  
"Romantically?" she asked, shocked. "Hardly."  
"Best friends," I stated.  
"That's probably closer to it."  
It was a well-guarded secret at that time that Delenn had once held the title of Satai. She'd been a member of the Grey Council, Minbar's ruling body. From what I'd seen, they hadn't been very thrilled with her serving among humans, a race that they had nearly wiped off the face of the galaxy. I could only imagine how pleased they'd been with the idea of a human and another former Satai as close friends.  
But it made me wonder one thing. Just how closely had the Grey Council been involved with the Rangers?  
"Normally," Alina said, "those who held the title of Satai would never associate with humans, let along the general public on Minbar. After Delenn, Rathenn may be the only former Satai alive with a good deal of experience around humans. He basically *was* Sinclair's liaison to the Grey Council."  
"You knew Jeff?" I asked.  
"Yes," she stated.  
The tone of her voice suggested that I shouldn't press the issue. For once, I listened. "So, you two out enjoying yourselves?" I asked.  
"I think so," Stephen said. "How about you, Alina?"  
"Wonderful. No one ever told me that Ambassador G'Kar was so fascinating."  
I had to laugh. "G'Kar? Fascinating?"  
"Yes," Alina said. "Stephen and I were discussing the Book of G'Kar with him. Have you read it yet?"  
Read it? I didn't even know it existed. "No," I said. "It's hard to get the best-sellers out near the Rim."  
"You should, Captain. G'Kar's take on philosophy is very enlightening. I can loan you my copy if you would like."  
"That's okay," I told her, "I'll get one of my own. Marcus would probably appreciate it more than I would."  
Alina smiled. "You never know."  
"Would you look at the time?" Stephen asked. "Hate to break this up, ladies, but some of us have to be on duty early tomorrow." He grabbed Alina's hand. "Besides, I promised Delenn I'd have you back early. The last thing I need is her mad at me."  
They made their excuses, and left me to my drink. I watched them walk out, hand-in-hand. In two sips, I finished the drink.  
There were too many reports to deal with stacked up in my quarters, and I'd neglected them for far too long.   
  
**********  
  
All I could do was flip through the reports. I wasn't even paying attention to what I was reading.  
There was just something wrong with trying to concentrate on paperwork when a lunatic was running rampant on my station. In the seven days I'd been back, three people had been brutally assaulted, two fatally.  
A long sip of coffee helped me stay awake. After last night, I wasn't ready to see Marcus just yet. There were still far too many things I needed to sort out for myself.  
So, I tried to work. Distraction had always done it before.  
But not now.  
I had no idea what to do about the killer. Whoever he was, whatever he was, he had managed to find the one place to hide that Garibaldi didn't know about. I didn't think such a place existed.  
If Marcus was right, and this plan didn't work, I wasn't sure we had any other options. I had no choice but to put my faith in Garibaldi, his security team, and the few Rangers he'd chosen to work with him. Damn, I hated it when things got out of my control.  
And then there was this whole situation with Marcus.  
I couldn't bring myself to tell him yet, but in the last thirteen months everything that happened after the collision came back to me. I remembered waking up in that Minbari bed, after he'd forced the medical techs to make it horizontal. If I closed my eyes, I could still see him standing beside the bed.  
I'd had an idea of what was going through his mind. I'd seen it in his eyes, felt it whenever he had reached out and held my hand. The sight of him fighting back the tears, though, that had cut me right through to my soul. I could remember telling him it wouldn't be so bad, trying to keep his spirits up.  
There was something immensely wrong with the person doing the dying to also be the one doing the reassuring.  
Then it had happened. I'd seen the words in his mind. The first telepathic contact I had willingly initiated in decades, and of course it was going to be on my deathbed. But that second changed everything.  
I had wished that Lorien had been there, had wanted so desperately to tell him that he was right.  
At that second, I made a promise to myself that no matter how much time I had left, I would do what he said and embrace that gift. I had decided to let myself care one last time.  
Then John had come and taken him away to the final battle, the battle he had managed to help win, and then escape.  
Then the damned fool had found the way to save my life.  
And then he was gone.  
My world got turned upside-down again, for what I had promised myself would be the last time.  
Promises just didn't seem to mean that much these days.  
The doorbell rang, just in time to drag me out of the past.  
"Who's there?"  
"Susan? It's Stephen."  
"Come in." Great. Here I was, enjoying a nice funk. The last thing I needed was for Stephen to try and cheer me up.  
If I wanted that, all I had to do was go to sleep.  
"Are you okay?" he asked.  
"Fine. I thought you had an early shift tomorrow?"  
He walked over and sat in the chair that faced me. When I looked up, I could see the concern on his face.  
"Nothing's wrong with Marcus, Stephen. Why do you look so worried? Is Lochley okay?"  
"They're both fine. I just got the word, and I thought you'd take this better coming from me."  
My warning signals all picked that moment to go off. "As opposed to?"  
"Corwin."  
The universe was truly out to get me. "Let me guess, not only are there no telepaths of any sort in the quarter of a million plus people on this tin can, but Lyta's also the closest?"  
He nodded. "That was a guess, right?"  
"Yes. You're getting almost as bad as Garibaldi. At least he's got a reason to be paranoid."  
"So, now what do we do?"  
I reached for the coffee, which had gone cold. "I don't know, Stephen. We either pray to every deity known that this guy takes a few days off, which I *sincerely* doubt is going to happen, or I risk a surface scan and pray nothing goes wrong. And God forbid I find anything. How in the hell do we explain *that* to Garibaldi without telling him about me?"  
Stephen leaned back. "*Now* who's being paranoid?"  
"We've been over this, Stephen. The only people who I want to know about this are you, John and Delenn. Any more and we risk the Corps finding out. That's not paranoid, that's just good judgment. I really don't like the idea of Lochley knowing, but if it's going to save lives I suppose I can live with it."  
"What about Marcus? You're going to have to tell him."  
I watched Stephen for a long minute. He needed to know the truth, needed to know that he had another telepath to protect. "He already knows."  
Surprise like I'd never seen before was on Stephen's face. "What? Wait a minute, you mean you told him?"  
"Not exactly. Let's just say that you now have a standing order to keep anyone from the Corps away from Marcus."  
"Those neurotransmitter levels, they weren't a fluke? He really *has* become a telepath?"  
"When all of this is over, I'll tell you the whole story. Provided I can sort it all out for myself, first. He *is* in contact with someone. Me."  
"How?" he asked.  
"I promise I'll explain it all to you as soon as I can. One good thing about it, he's helping us with this investigation."  
"Through you?"  
"Through me."  
Something picked that moment to click in my mind. "Ah, hell. I have to scan Lochley, Stephen. Marcus may recognize something that Lyta wouldn't. Can you get me in there privately?"  
Stephen glanced at the clock. "Now too soon? There's a skeleton crew on at this hour. Shouldn't be too hard to get rid of them."  
"Only if I can get some fresh coffee on the way."  
"I'll buy," he said.  
"Then let's go."  
  
**********  
  
Lochley didn't look much better than the last time I'd seen her. A part of me cringed at the sight of the halo around her head. I could only assume it was still there to keep the neck wound from re-opening. Her hands were literally encased in bandages.  
I took a long sip of caff, fighting to stay awake. The fatigue was making it hard to remember what little I knew about surface scans.  
"I've got the securecam and audio inputs taken down. Everything that's not essential is offline. Are you ready?"  
"Do I have a choice?"  
"Susan, this is still your call. If you don't want to do this, you don't have to."  
I put the coffee mug down. "I was joking, Stephen. Let's get this over with. Wake her and get her consent."  
Stephen grabbed a hypodermic and gave Lochley what I assumed was a stimulant. It only took a few seconds for it to work. She struggled against the halo as much as the damned thing would let her, trying to talk to us the whole time, until Stephen put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back against the bed.  
"Don't try to speak, just relax," he said. "Captain, I need you to listen. Your vocal chords and hands were severely damaged in the attack. I've got to be honest with you, I'm not sure if you'll ever get your voice or any use of your hands back. You can't talk or write. If you understand me so far, blink your eyes twice for yes."  
Lochley blinked twice.  
"Good. Do you remember anything about the person who attacked you?"  
Two more blinks.  
"Good. Look, Captain, you're the only person that's seen this killer. What you remember is the best lead we have to finding them. The problem is that right now you can't give anyone this information yourself. I need your consent, but I have a telepath here that can try a surface scan on you to see if she can find that information."  
I could feel Lochley's fear. Stephen must have sensed it, too, because he tried to calm her down even more.  
"Captain," he said, "I know this attack scared you. Everybody's afraid because of this guy. You can still help us find him, make him pay. You want to do that, right?"  
Lochley blinked twice.  
"Good. Right now, the only way you can do that is to let her scan you. Just remember the attack. Bring it to the front of your mind. She should be able to find it there, but she needs your consent to look. She can't do anything if you don't let her, Captain."  
"Good. Lochley's eyes closed. I was beginning to think she was going to say no when she opened her eyes and blinked twice.  
"We have your consent?" Stephen asked.  
Two more blinks, and Stephen turned toward me. "We've got her consent. Whenever you're ready."  
My stomach did a somersault as I walked around the bed. I had only practiced surface scans before, but I had never had any indications that anything had gone wrong. Just repeat that, and everything should go along just fine, right?  
I looked into Lochley's eyes, feeling her surprise instantly. "I'll explain it to you later," I whispered. "Just think about the attack."  
The pull into her mind felt almost physical. The first two or three seconds of telepathic contact were always confusing for me, trying to sort through the conflicting thoughts and sensations. When I finally got everything under control, I heard a voice. Lochley's voice. She was talking to someone about a meeting with the Gaim ambassador. Who was she talking to? I recognized Alina's voice. It was nothing but a diplomatic discussion. I only gave it passing attention until Alina bowed and excused herself.  
Lochley kept walking, straight into Brown Sector. A Ranger passed her as she went around one corner, a human the likes of which neither one of us had seen before. I separated myself just enough to concentrate on him. He was taller than Lochley by almost a foot. A seven-foot tall human being? That was certainly tall enough to have taken out the Minbari. Other than his height, there wasn't anything outstanding about the Ranger's appearance. I could have seen that face over and over and not have had a second thought about him.  
Lochley trusted him. No matter what was happening on the station, Rangers just weren't murders.  
She hadn't thought anything was wrong until the Ranger had walked past. She turned around for a second look, not quite believing a man could be that tall. All she saw was an empty corridor.  
Alina's voice came from another corridor. I turned back in time to see her come around the corner with a smile on her face. She said she had a message from Delenn.  
But there was something different about the way Alina walked. What was it? Lochley hadn't realized it then, but I saw it immediately. Alina looked taller than she had before.  
Alina slowly led me back down the corridor.  
I didn't see her slip behind me.  
An arm came up under my chin.  
I didn't want to believe it was happening. "Minette," I whispered.  
I could hear Stephen's voice calling out, repeatedly shouting my name. Where was he?  
I furiously swatted my hands at my neck, trying to stop the blade. I could feel it slice into my hand over and over again, until finally I couldn't feel it anymore and my hands just stopped working.  
Alina's voice whispered in my ear. "In shadows I live, in shadows you die."  
"Susan!"  
I closed my eyes as my head fell back. I felt the knife begin to work its way across my throat. Warmth trickled down my neck.  
Blood.  
But there was no pain.  
The knife finished its path.  
I was gasping for breath, inhaling my own blood.  
Everything was getting darker.  
I was dying again.  
A wall of black slammed across my senses.  
The connection was broken.  
I fell onto the floor in a heap.  
"Susan! It's Stephen! Can you hear me?"  
I managed to open my eyes, but the room was spinning. I clamped my hands around my throat. It was intact. I could feel my hands again.  
The knife hadn't been for me.  
I looked up into Stephen's worried face for a second, still fighting to breathe. At least the room was beginning to straighten itself out. "The scan," I said, wheezing, "I couldn't break it. What happened?"  
Stephen helped me sit up. "I don't know."  
"I broke it."  
Alina was standing in the doorway, looking very concerned. I still couldn't read her, but considering what I'd just seen, I could guess what that look was all about.  
Somehow, my link was still on my hand. I slapped it and called for a security team.  
Alina sounded stunned, "What?"  
I stared right into Alina's green eyes as I pulled myself off of the floor. "Come back to finish what you started?"  
She at least had the decency to look confused. "What are you talking about? Finish what?"  
I jerked my head toward Lochley. "Killing her."  
She shook her head. "I did not do this, Captain."  
I stared into that frighteningly familiar face, and I could feel the knife at my throat again. A chill raced down my spine. "I'm not the one you have to convince."  
"Stephen, please tell her. *You* know why I've been coming here, why I'm here now."  
"Yes, Alina," he said, sounding skeptical. "I know. And right now I'm beginning to think I should check on him."  
Keeping one eye on Alina, I turned to Stephen. "Check on who?"  
Before Stephen could answer, Garibaldi came through the Medlab doors with Thompson and Callahan in tow. "You called, Captain?"  
"Get her in the brig. Charge is attempted murder."  
Garibaldi looked like I'd just told him Daffy Duck was really a chicken in disguise. "Attempted murder? Who'd she try to kill?"  
"Lochley."  
I didn't think Garibaldi could have looked any more surprised, but somehow he did. "She's our killer?"  
"Possibly. Get her in the maximum security cell."  
Garibaldi nodded as Callahan cuffed Alina, then the three of them led her out of Medlab One.  
"You were in deep, Susan," Stephen said. "She may have saved your life. You had better be right on this."  
"I'm sorry, but I know what I saw, Stephen. The last thing Lochley remembered before the attack was Alina telling her that there was a message from Delenn. They were alone, in an empty corridor when it happened. Nobody shows up out of thin air, Stephen. Nobody."  
He shook his head. "I trust you, Susan. I just don't believe it. Come on, let me take a look at you and then I'll check on the captain." He wrapped an arm around my waist and led me to a medical bed.  
"Stephen?" I asked.  
"Yes?"  
I leaned back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. "She said you knew why she came in here."  
He sighed. "Yes, I do."  
The tone of his voice worried me. When I caught a glimpse of his eyes, my worried were confirmed. "Well?" I asked.  
He looked me right in the eyes. "She's been coming in to see Marcus."  
  
**********  
  
"How in the hell do you know Marcus?"  
I stared across the interrogation room at Alina, waiting to see who would blink first. She sat at the table and stared right back at me, not budging an inch.  
"How in the hell did you manage to scan Lochley?" she asked.  
With a nod to the guard, I dismissed him. As soon as the door closed behind him, I pulled my PPG from my hip and gave it a charge. Garibaldi didn't know it, but I could play good cop-bad cop with the best of them.  
I walked over to the table and leaned against it. "I'm the one asking the questions. You do one thing out of line, you'll be orbiting Epsilon Three without a ship. Do I make myself crystal clear?"  
She nodded.  
"Good. Now, let's try this again. How do you know Marcus?"  
Her head dropped. "We grew up together."  
"You grew up together?"  
"Yes."  
"Where?"  
"Arisia Mining Colony."  
Had to give her credit for one thing, she'd done her homework. "That's interesting. I've checked every database in Earthdome going back twenty years, including all of the colonies. Believe me, Arisia was the first place I checked. There's no mention of an Alina Minette anywhere."  
"That's because I wasn't born there."  
"Where were you born?"  
"London."  
"On Earth? Why aren't you in the birth records?"  
She shook her head. "I don't know."  
"You don't know?" I was fighting to keep my temper in check. She seemed so damned sincere. Every instinct I had told me she was telling the truth. If it had been anybody else, I probably would have tested my instincts telepathically. "Are your parents still in London?"  
"No."  
"Were they killed when Arisia exploded?"  
"No."  
"What happened to them?"  
"My mother died on Earth when I was four. My father was a mining engineer. He got a job with Cole Mining and we moved to Arisia when I was five. He died in a mining accident when I was eighteen."  
I pushed away from the table. "Okay, let's try something else. You broke a telepathic scan. Are you a rogue?"  
She finally looked up from the table, and a part of me wished to God that she hadn't. She was obviously fighting back tears, and losing. "I was," she whispered.  
"When did you leave the Corps?"  
"I never joined."  
"Sleepers?"  
She shook her head.  
"The Corps doesn't miss anyone. How did they miss you?"  
"I could ask you the same question," she said, defeated.  
The sound of her voice was enough to keep me from getting angry. "Who are you?"  
My entire field of vision turned white, and somehow I knew I was seeing an explosion. She wanted me to see it, because she knew it would be familiar. "The picture," I whispered.  
"What picture?"  
I shook my head in an attempt to clear my vision. "Marcus has this picture. It's of him and his brother and this girl. I *thought* she looked familiar. Were you ever a redhead?"  
"Yes," she said with a sad smile. "He still has a picture of me?"  
"He thinks you're dead."  
Standing, she began to pace the room. "The girl he knew is dead, Captain. She died when that transport exploded."  
I could feel her guilt. It nearly overwhelmed me. "How did you kill them?"  
"I told you, I didn't kill anyone."  
"I don't mean the Rangers. That transport. It exploded. It was an accident."  
Her eyes locked onto mine. "How much did Marcus tell you about me?"  
"Just that you were both a telepath and a telekinetic and that you died when that transport exploded." All of a sudden it dawned on me. "That's it. You think something you did telekinetically caused that explosion?"  
She nodded. "I made it to a lifepod, but I was alone. I floated in that debris for four days before a Minbari freighter found me. They wanted to drop me off on one of the colonies, but I begged them to let me stay. The captain finally granted me temporary asylum."  
"But that was near the end of the war, why stay with them?"  
"I don't know. I guess I thought that if I got scanned by the Corps, they'd know about the explosion. The Minbari ship had a telepath on board. I showed him what happened. He managed to convince me not to feel so guilty, that it was nothing I'd done."  
"But you still don't believe it."  
She shook her head. "Not really."  
"So, you let yourself be listed as having died in the explosion?"  
"Wouldn't you? The Corps wouldn't come looking for a dead telepath. They wouldn't try to harass Marcus or Will. I thought once everything settled down I could contact them. The closest I came was in Tuzanor four years ago. I found out he had been there the day after he'd left for his mission to Zagros Seven. I almost got drummed out of the Rangers for the tirade I threw in Sinclair's office."  
"Alina, I'm only going to ask you this once. Did you attack Captain Lochley?"  
She looked straight into my eyes and calmly said, "No."  
I started to pace, sizing everything up as I walked. She was a telepath. Judging by how fast she'd placed that explosion into my mind without my even knowing, she was one hell of a powerful telepath, a P11, maybe even a P12. Definitely around Psi Cop level. I had no choice but to believe what she was telling me, even though I didn't want to. A part of me was sure she'd scanned me, coming up with the girl in the picture.  
But I wanted to believe her, at least for Marcus's sake.  
I put what I knew of Alina against what I'd seen in Lochley's mind. The woman I'd seen during the scan had been taller, but I'd chalked that up to the trauma of the experience. In person, Alina was barely over five feet tall. Granted, my knowledge of Ranger training was limited to what little Marcus had told me over the years, but I was pretty sure that I could have beaten Alina in a hand-to-hand fight. Alina was just too little and too thin for me to see her as that much of a threat.  
Which was probably why the universe had given her the double dose of mental ability. Telekinesis must have been one hell of an ace in the hole.  
Telekinesis.  
The ability to move things with the mind.  
Why would a telekinetic need a murder weapon?  
"Captain, what if I could give you information?" Alina asked.  
"What kind of information?"  
"The kind of information only a strong telepath who'd been near the scene could give."  
Now, there was an opening if ever I'd seen one. "How strong a telepath?"  
"Well, it is the Minbari scale, but I believe it translates to about a P13."  
My jaw dropped. "A stable P13 *and* a telekinetic? That's impossible! The Corps has been trying for years to induce telekinesis in strong telepaths. They've failed every single time."  
"Now you know why I hid out with the Minbari."  
I was still trying to get over the shock. "I know someone you should talk to."  
"Lyta Alexander?"  
That was a little too convenient for my tastes. "Yes," I said skeptically.  
"If you're worried about me scanning you, Captain, don't be. Lyta Alexander is the other reason I was assigned to Babylon Five. Delenn thought I should work with her as well. Once she found out that Marcus and I were old friends, she requested me as her aide."  
"Let's get back to the subject. What information?"  
"For a few seconds, I think I made contact with its mind." She didn't look comfortable with what she was telling me. "After I left Captain Lochley, I thought I might try searching for the killer telepathically. The first thing I picked up on was the Captain's fear. Betrayal and fear." She wrapped her arms around herself. "Close to her, I found something frightening. Darkness. Evil. Pure hatred. It was almost like looking into a pool of water at night. The darkness goes all the way to the bottom, but any light just shimmers on the surface. I kept feeling reflected bits of the signal I was using."  
A chill ran down my spine at her words. "But, you did contact it?"  
"That much I'm sure of."  
"So we have a telepathic footprint."  
"As close as I could get to one. By the time I was sure who it was, your security people stopped me and I lost contact."  
I smiled. "But you could recognize him again?"  
"Possibly."  
"Possibly?" I caught a glimpse of the fear in her eyes. "What is it? You said you contacted him?"  
"I did. Captain, you don't understand. I don't know what this creature is, but I will stake my life that he isn't human. Or Minbari for that matter."  
"Damn. There goes our two best leads. At least we can rule out most of the Rangers." I took a deep breath, and a leap of faith. "Alina, would you be willing to work with security until Lyta gets back? Do telepathic scans, that kind of thing? It should only be for a few days."  
She bowed. "Of course, Captain. Anything I can do to help you, I will."  
I felt as if the weight of the entire galaxy were finally off of my shoulders. "Thank you."  
"Captain, I'd have scanned Captain Lochley for you if I'd known you needed a telepath."  
"Something tells me she wouldn't have let you close enough." I turned to leave, but one thing still nagged at the back of my mind. "That reminds me, we ran a search for every known telepath on the station, including within the Rangers. Why didn't we find you?"  
She looked right at me and smiled. "A promise was kept."  
"A promise?"  
"I was studying on Minbar when the Rangers were brought back into full service four years ago," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "The Minbari trained me to be a healer, Captain. Sinclair thought it would be a good idea to have a doctor in the ranks who could get the job done just as well without medicines and modern technology. So, he invited me to join. I accepted, but only on the condition that I would be protected from the Corps. He agreed to it. Eventually, he opened the ranks to any trained telepath who wanted to join. He agreed to list human telepaths as normals, under different names if that was what they wanted. Psi Corps would have to put a spy in our ranks to find us, and believe me, we'd find them first."  
I couldn't resist smiling at the tone of her voice. She sounded like she loved the Corps about as much as I did. "Remind me to introduce you to a man named Bester."  
She winced. "I've heard of him. Nasty, that one."  
"Rangers always did have better intelligence gathering."  
"The best. You aren't making a mistake, Captain. I didn't do it. I am trained to save lives, not take them."  
"Still, I'd like to keep you in here for a few days."  
"Captain?"  
I headed for the door, stopping just before it opened. "To be honest, you could probably pass a scan run by a Psi Cop and they wouldn't even blink. God knows I can't tell if you're telling me the truth. Until Lyta gets back, I've got no choice but to believe you. You can come and go as you please, but a guard has to go with you anywhere you go."  
"Captain, if you're going to believe me, why keep me in here?"  
"Marcus. If you are who you say you are, and this guy gets to you before he wakes up, he'll kill me."

*****  
  
I could still get through the Mess Hall in my sleep. I, at least, was quite proud of that fact. I saw Stephen and Michael sitting alone, and carried my tray to their table. "Good morning, gentlemen. Mind if I join you?"  
"Not at all, Captain," Stephen said, pointing toward the chair in front of me. "I've been looking for you, actually."  
Now, not having had my first cup of coffee, I was lost. Marcus was okay. Lochley was stable and recovering as well as could be expected. "Why?"  
"I need to know if you believe her," Stephen said.  
"She can make me believe whatever she wants me to believe, Stephen. I've got Corwin tracking the details of her story right now. Until I get some verification, I don't have a choice but to believe her."  
He shook his head. "Susan, if she'd wanted to hurt Marcus, she could have done it ten times over already. She could have killed both of us in Medlab."  
"So you believe she's innocent?" I asked.  
"I've known her for seven months, Susan. You've known her eight days. How can you be so sure she's guilty?"  
"How can you be so sure she's not?"  
"Guys, guys," Garibaldi said. "She's under a twenty-four hour guard. We'll have a pretty good idea of whether or not she's innocent if any more Rangers end up dead." He looked me straight in the eyes. "What I want to know is when you're going to tell me where that information came from, Ivanova."  
I took a long sip of coffee before answering. "Remember Stephen said he knew of a telepath on the station?"  
Michael nodded.  
"Remember I said we'd call that person in as a last resort?"  
He nodded again.  
"Let's just say we needed our last resort."  
"So, who's the teep? We need to line up a deposition."  
I took a deep breath. "The telepath asked for anonymity in exchange for doing the scan. I had no choice but to grant the request."  
"Wish you'd talked to be about it first," Michael grumbled. "I'm only the person *in charge* of the investigation, remember?"  
"There wasn't time, Michael. Look, I told you all of the information the telepath gave me. Have you come up with anything new?"  
Michael finished the last dregs of his meal before answering. "No, nothing. I've got security stretched so tight in case this teep of your is wrong that I'm praying there isn't a fight somewhere. If the killer's still out there, unless he makes a serious mistake, there's nothing more I can do."  
Finishing off my own breakfast, I pushed myself away from the table. "So, we hope the guy makes a mistake."

**********

I had managed a full head of steam by the time I got to Blue Ten. "Damn it, Garibaldi, what happened?"  
The sight of yet another nearly headless Minbari sitting at Michael's feet stopped me cold. This time, it was a sight that didn't immediately turn my stomach.  
I wasn't quite sure whether or not I liked that fact.  
"Name's Mishann. Same MO as Rashann and Dornan," Michael said, walking away from the corpse.  
"Wasn't he paired up?" I asked.  
"Yes. A human Ranger named Jamison. We're looking for him right now."  
My jaw dropped. "Looking for him? Wasn't he with the body?"  
He shook his head. "Alina found the body," he said, sounding as if it didn't surprise him. He pointed toward where Callahan was speaking with the small, astoundingly sedate, Ranger. I had to give her a lot of credit for being so calm.  
"And where's her guard?" I asked.  
"Callahan was her guard. Said Alina had some appointments to attend to for Delenn. Best we can get from them is that they came across Jamison, alone, down the corridor. He said that Mishann had disappeared, and wanted their help to find him. The three of them got together and went looking."  
I remembered Marcus's words. It was easy to separate a team. He knew it wouldn't work. I quickly turned back to Garibaldi. "Michael, that means Jamison is our killer!"  
"I know. Stephen was right. I've got people combing every possible area they can, even the ventilation shafts. If we still had working internal scanners, we'd be set."  
I pounded the wall, frustrated. During the Shadow War we'd had to cannibalize the closest thing we'd had to internal scanners for spare parts. I'd found a requisition form dated last month that would have given us the equipment to repair them.  
"Michael, put as many people on it as you can. If we don't find him we're going to have another victim on our hands."  
I walked away from him, grabbing Alina's arm and pulling her aside. "Did you get anything?"  
She led me further away. When we were somewhat isolated, she began to talk. "Yes, I did. Whatever this creature is, Jamison was nothing more than its disguise."  
"Disguise?"  
"Captain, I have no idea what that was I saw. I know it looked human, but it wasn't human. I have never dealt with anything like this."  
"Explain."  
"The killer's a shapeshifter, Captain. I'm convinced that Jamison was just a mask he put on. That's probably why security has had so much trouble finding him before now. He probably has the capacity to change his appearance at will. I was trained to heal every form of life known to both the Minbari *and* the Vorlons, Captain. I know of *no* species or disease that would allow for shapeshifting. We could very well be dealing with a whole new lifeform."  
I started to pace. "Okay, Jamison was a disguise. Our killer posed as him. The problem is, the *real* Jamison checked out. So, where is he now?"  
"Ivanova!"  
I turned to find Garibaldi standing at the end of an adjacent hallway. I had the distinct feeling that I wasn't going to like what he had to say. "Michael?"  
"We found Jamison."  
Alina stepped up behind me. "You what? You found him? How?"  
He gestured toward an area further up the hall. "Take a look."  
I did just that, and found two bloody sheets draped on the floor. One looked like it covered the body of something that had once been human. The other covered a lump that I figured was its severed head. "Damn it! This has got to stop! How can he pose as *anybody* he wants?"  
"I could tell when I spoke with the fake Jamison that it wasn't him. It felt like something alien," Alina said. "Do you think it could be a form of telepathic camouflage?"  
"That would take one hell of a strong telepath," I told her. "Definitely stronger than you."  
She visibly shivered. "I don't even want to think about that. If he were that much stronger than me, I wouldn't even feel him. We're talking orders of magnitude stronger, Captain, the difference between a Psi Cop and a commercial telepath. But, if he were *that* much stronger, I shouldn't have been able to feel him at all. Theoretically, he could block me out without even thinking about it. I got a footprint on him."  
"So, we know the camo isn't telepathic," Garibaldi said. "I'll have my people run some checks." His eyes widened as though he'd thought of something nasty. "Ivanova, are you *sure* we can't get the internal scanners working?"  
I shook my head. "We can't. The supplies aren't due in for another two weeks and we don't have anything that could jury-rig it. Before you ask, I tried to get Earthdome to ship it faster. They can't."  
Garibaldi sighed. "There *is* one thing that could allow for the shapeshifting, but it puts out one *hell* of an energy signature."  
"What?" I asked.  
"A changeling net," he bluntly answered. "And if he's got one of those, without internal scanners we may never find him."

**********

I walked the corridors of the vacant space station that was now my second home. I was becoming just as comfortable here as in its crowded real-world counterpart, and that was getting to be annoying.  
It didn't take me long to find Marcus. He was studying what looked like Mishann's corpse. I could feel his disbelief before anything else. He'd found something.  
"What is it?"  
"This," he said, pointing toward the dead Minbari's throat. "I didn't see it before. Our friend is getting sloppy."  
I looked at the corpse, not quite sure what I was supposed to be seeing. "What am I looking for?"  
"It's called Fen Dran," he whispered.  
"Fen Dran?"  
"The pattern of the cut. Look."  
I did, and was surprised at its familiarity. "So, these are ritual-style killings?"  
"Possibly. The only problem is, it's an ancient Minbari ritual. As far as I know, it hasn't been used for centuries."  
"And this would involve that little thing about Minbari not killing other Minbari?"  
"That's the problem, yes. Not even the warrior caste still uses this technique."  
I leaned toward him. "So, how do you know about it?"  
"Something I picked up on Minbar."  
Over the short time I'd known him, I had found out about some of the things he had 'picked up' on Minbar. "Marcus, why do these things you 'pick up' on Minbar seem to always involve someone dying, usually you?"  
He shrugged, "I was looking for a heroic suicide, remember? Maybe I was trying to expand my resources?"  
"Not funny." I gestured toward the corpse. "So, we're really looking for a Minbari?"  
"It would appear so."  
"You're not sure?"  
He shook his head. "I don't like it. This ritual is too old. It's perfectly done, like they just learned the technique."  
"Could they be trying to make it look like a Minbari is doing the killing?"  
"It's possible, but who outside of the Minbari would know how to do this?"  
"You do," I reminded him.  
"It's not exactly something they taught the Rangers, Susan," he said, looking me in the eye. "If I were you, I'd be searching for a Minbari, probably warrior caste. Right now, it's the only thing that fits."  
I stood up, taking a deep breath. He hadn't seen it in my mind, so it was time to tell him. "Well, it would explain why Rangers are the ones getting killed. The problem is it doesn't gel with the information I got from an old friend of yours."  
"What old-?" His eyes shot open. "Lee? She's alive?"  
It was nice to know that I could still keep a few things a secret, even here. "Lee? Her name was Lee?"  
"Nickname. Her name was Liana Stewart. What is she doing here?"  
"She claims that when Delenn found out you were old friends, she was reassigned."  
"Delenn did that for me?" he asked, surprised.  
"Before your ego gets any bigger, it was before Delenn knew you were still alive. Apparently she wants your friend to work with Lyta."  
He stood up beside me. "If Lee's here, she's probably been more help to you already than I could ever be. That was always her way. Where is she?"  
I bit my lip, turning away from him. "She's safe, Marcus."  
"Where is she, Susan?" he insisted.  
"I can't-"  
He slowly walked around in front of me. When I finally looked up at him, his expression said it all. "Maximum security? Have you gone mad? What in the hell is Liana doing in a maximum security cell?"  
"I'm protecting her, Marcus."  
"A half-truth is worse than a lie, Susan. You don't trust her." He shook his head. "Pardon me for not being surprised. The idea that you have her in that cell-"  
"Marcus! This is insane! You obviously didn't see what I saw in Lochley's mind. Lochley is convinced that your friend Lee attacked her. Besides, how do we know it's really Liana, anyway? Sure, she looks like the girl in your picture, but faces can be changed."  
"You are *such* a cynic! Couldn't you just scan her?"  
"Yeah, right. A P8 scanning a P13. Do the words 'no way in hell' mean anything to you?"  
I could feel the beginning of an idea forming in his mind. "What if . . . yes. What if you asked her a question that only Liana could answer correctly?"  
"And that would be?"  
He started to pace, folding his hands at the small of his back. "Let's see. Got it. Ask her what I gave her for her ninth birthday."  
"Her ninth birthday?"  
"Ninth. You might say it stuck with her."  
"So what-"  
He held up a hand to stop me. "No. Get the answer, then come back to me."  
"Why?"  
"You just said she was a P13, Susan. If you knew the answer, how hard would it be for her to pick it out of your mind?"  
"I'd know if she tried."  
He gave me a skeptical look. "Would you? When was the last time a Psi Cop tried to scan you? For that matter, when was the last time Lyta tried to scan you?"  
"Damn," I said, seeing his point. "I could always feel it before. I just assumed. Are you sure about this?"  
"Positive."  
I couldn't help but look at Mishann's body. "If she's got something to do with this, Marcus," I warned.  
"I know . . . I don't believe she does, Susan. I can't believe that. I'm not sure what, but there is something definitely wrong with this whole thing."  
This whole thing was beginning to get to him. I could see it as well as feel it. He was so happy even at the prospect of having his old friend back, but it paled in comparison to what was going on around us. This situation violated everything either one of us knew about the Minbari and their culture, everything we had once considered stable. In his mind, he was going over what for him was the recent civil war, his encounter with Neroon, everything he had known. His common sense was screaming that no Minbari would do this.  
"You may be right. We'll figure this one out," I told him. I tried to comfort him by putting a hand on his shoulder. "Alina . . . Liana claims that she got a telepathic footprint on the killer. She's convinced that he isn't human or Minbari. I've got Garibaldi working with her until Lyta gets back. This information of yours will help us."  
My hand slipped from his shoulder. I'd never seen him like this before, and it was beginning to worry me.  
"You've got more important things to worry about than me," he said. "Be careful, Susan."  
"I know, I know. You're not around to save my life this time."  
My attempt to cheer him up failed miserably.  
In all the time I'd known him, this was the first time I'd seen him openly worried. Even when we'd been confronted with the reality of spies in our ranks during the civil war, he'd been the level-headed one, never letting on how rattled he must have been.  
Nothing I said was going to comfort him. What I saw when I looked in his eyes actually frightened me.  
"I'll make you a deal," I said. "You concentrate on getting well again, I'll worry about finding this guy."  
"Susan, I-"  
"You don't like me doing this alone." I tapped my finger on my temple. "I'm not alone. You're right here, remember?"  
"Much as you'd prefer otherwise."  
I put my hands on my hips, mustering as much attitude as I could. "If after everything we've been through you still believe that, then I suppose some things are going to have to change."  
He gave me a bewildered look, which I took to mean that he had no clue of what I was about to do. Good. It was a shot in the dark, but I was willing to bet it would work.  
So, before I lost my nerve, I very softly kissed him.  
If I hadn't believed this place was different before, what I felt during that kiss was enough to convince me. His thoughts were mixing with mine at a frightening rate, until after a few seconds I couldn't separate whose thoughts were whose. Longing. Regret. Nervousness. Affection. Tenderness. Wonder. Emotion after emotion hit me, until I couldn't fight them off anymore. What surprised me was that I was happier when I wasn't working against the tide.  
I pulled away when I finally couldn't handle the deluge anymore.  
"I think I could live with this," I whispered. "Tell you what. Tonight, let's try to forget about these murders."  
"And do what?"  
"Talk." I found his hand at my waist and wrapped my fingers around it. "I don't think we've just talked since we found that Vorlon fleet. God, that was what, a year and a half ago?"  
He backed a half-step away. "A year and a half ago? Has it really been a year since-"  
"Just over. A lot's changed since you decided to take this little vacation from reality. Out there's a very different place from the one you left."  
The expression on his face reminded me of a lost child, but there was a desperate curiosity in his eyes. "Tell me?" he asked. "I want to know what's happened to everyone."  
"No, you don't," I whispered. "I wasn't here, but Lyta and Delenn did send me a few messages. I'll tell you what I can, but you might get just as much from ISN."  
"It's more than I know now."  
I shrugged. "Okay, where do you want me to start?"  
He led me down a dark corridor, away from the chaos of his view of reality. "Well, how about why you weren't here?"  
I grumbled as he led me away. Even though I was asleep, it was going to be another long night.

[End Part 4 of 6]  


_BABYLON 5 names, characters and all related indicia are the property of J. Michael Straczynski, TNT and Warner Brothers, a division of Time Warner Entertainment Company. All rights reserved._


	5. 

[AC][AL][MV][GD (Graphic Descriptions)]  
  
Disclaimers: All B5 characters and settings belong to JMS and Warner Brothers and anybody else with legitimate legal claim. Don't want them, not claiming them, just borrowing them. Only one character's mine, but if the Great Maker needs her, or someone similar to her, she's his.  
  
Spoiler warning: *Definitely* contains spoilers up to the current U.S. episodes of Season 5 (as much as I can actually use within the context of this story), as well as Book #9. *Could definitely* contain spoilers through the end of Season 5.  
  
This is my first foray into the mystery genre, so please forgive any really glaring errors.  
  
Big boxes of virtual Godivas to all who helped in the birth of this baby! You guys are the best!  
  
Enough of my stalling. After some brief spoiler space for those who may not be up-to-date with the U.S.. . .   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Perpetual dedication:  
Dedicated to those of us who think there had to be a better way for Ivanova to realize it.  
  
***** 

I forced down a yawn as I walked into the cell that housed Alina Minette. She was sitting on the floor with her legs crossed and her palms resting on each knee. I'd heard about the meditation techniques that the Rangers had been taught, but this was the first time I had ever seen them in action.  
"Good morning, Captain," Alina said, not even opening her eyes. "I trust you slept well?"  
"Never better," I said. "Garibaldi said you had information for me?"  
Alina opened her eyes, standing up with a grace that I actually envied. She reached over her head and stretched. "Yes. When I awoke this morning, I remembered two rather interesting things."  
"What?"  
"It may not be that much help," she said, searching for the right words. "But I think I've been in contact with that species before."  
"You think?"  
"It was in battle. You see, I used to command White Star 22. We were with Delenn during the meeting with the Drakh two years ago. I felt it as we fired upon the Drakh mothership."  
I tried to remember all of the information I had been given access to about that meeting. Delenn had said that because she considered it internal Minbari business, there had been no reason to bring it to the War Council. If it really *had* been Minbari business, what had human Rangers been doing there?  
"If there was ever a time to be out of the loop . . . . So, you believe this killer's a Drakh?"  
She shook her head. "No, Captain. I can't be sure of that. It could be, but they may have had allies on board their ships."  
"Okay, so what's the other thing?"  
"Do you remember me telling you about trained telepaths finding anonymity within the Rangers?"  
I nodded.  
She looked worried. "The complete record for every member of the Rangers is in the master system in Tuzanor. I spoke with Rathenn this morning. Two weeks ago, they caught someone hacking into those files. Our technicians came to the conclusion that the hacker hadn't accessed the truly important information, but it appears they were wrong. Captain, every Ranger that has been killed was a telepath."  
"Even the Minbari?" I asked.  
"Even the Minbari." She handed me a data crystal. "This is a listing of every telepath within the Rangers and their current name. Before you ask, yes, I am on that list."  
I put the crystal in my pocket. It was important information, all right. There was no arguing with that. It was just important enough to be fabricated. "What did Marcus give you for your ninth birthday?"  
"What?"  
"You heard me. Your ninth birthday."  
She was obviously confused. "Why do you need to know that?"  
"Trust me, it will help."  
Alina turned away, slowly starting to pace. "My ninth birthday? I think that was the year Marcus gave me the book. The first real book I'd ever seen." When she faced me again, she had a nostalgic smile on her face. I could see the pain of memory in her eyes. "Yes, it was Shakespeare. A Midsummer Night's Dream, actually. He always called me Titania. Will was Oberon. Well, until he got sick of it and punched Marcus in front of half the colony."  
I couldn't resist a laugh at the thought. If this was all fiction, at least it was entertaining fiction. "That's Marcus," I told her. "I've lost count of the number of times I've wanted to punch him."  
She shrugged. "I just gave him a taste of his own medicine. He was such a troublemaker when we were kids, so I thought that if he was going to call *us* characters from Midsummer Night's Dream, then I'd just have to call him Puck."  
I'd only read the play once before, but I knew the reference. "I'll bet he loved that one."  
"Let's just say his overdeveloped sense of nobility kept him from killing me," Alina managed between giggles.  
I leaned back, still smiling as I tried to size up the situation. None of my telepathic warnings were going off, but did that really mean anything? The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that Marcus was right about Alina.  
But she had already barreled through all of the blocks I had up once, and I hadn't even seen it. Could I trust her not to do it again, even if it *was* to save her own life?  
At least now I had a way to find out. "If there's nothing else?" I asked.  
"No, Captain."  
I waited until the cell door closed behind me and I was well on my way to the lift before I contacted Garibaldi. He wondered why I wanted to wait two hours to meet. For once I told him the truth. There was something I had to take care of first.

**********

"Midsummer Night's Dream," I told Marcus. "She said you used to call her Titania."  
"And she used to call me Puck." He slowly shook his head. "I always hated that."  
"From what she tells me, it sounds like you deserved it." I watched him sitting in my office chair. He looked too comfortable. "So, she's right?"  
"Yes, Susan. She's exactly right. If I were you, I'd trust her."  
"Is there *anyone* you don't trust?"  
"Shadows, actually," he said. "Spiders . . . you on a bad day."  
The joke didn't amuse me. "Very funny. Look, how much do you know about the meeting Delenn had with the Drakh two years ago?"  
"Why would I know anything about that?" he said, evasive.  
"Marcus, anyone with half a wit could see Delenn was grooming you to take over the Rangers. Why *wouldn't* she tell you anything?"  
"Because she considered it internal Minbari business?"  
"How can it be internal Minbari business if some of the White Stars that went with her had human crews?"  
He looked surprised. "How do you . . . Liana told you that?"  
"She was there," I said, hands on my hips. "Stop avoiding the question, Marcus. It's important to this investigation. Answer me."  
"All I know is what Delenn put in the official report. Lennier wouldn't even tell me anything else. I'm sure if you contact her-"  
It was all I could do to not hit him. "I can't believe this! We're talking the safety of a quarter of a million people, including the two of us, and you're trying to keep Delenn's little secrets?"  
"You know I can't hide anything here, Susan. Why bother asking? Why don't you just take a dip into my memory and find out?"  
Great, now he was getting mad. I took a deep breath, counting to ten. As infuriating as he could be sometimes, I did feel a little bit guilty getting so angry with him. I walked closer, tried to calm him down with a hand on his arm. "I trust you, Marcus. I trust you enough to take what you're willing to tell me. I know the friendship you have with Delenn. She must have told you things that weren't in that report."  
The muscles under my hand relaxed. After a couple of seconds, he'd calmed down enough. "They were trying to assist a Pak'ma'ra ship that had been attacked by the Drakh. Delenn ordered the fleet to follow them to their mothership. They sent a representative to meet with her on board her White Star. He recognized her name from the War. She refused to cooperate with them. After he left, the fleet was attacked as it tried to leave. That's all I know. I tried to get more details, but she wouldn't tell me. Lennier just told me to ask Delenn. Maybe Liana-"  
"I think your friend has said everything she's going to say, Marcus. I just needed confirmation that we could trust her. At least now we have a better idea of what we're looking for." I felt a pin prick at my neck. "They're bringing me out."  
"I thought it was an odd time for you to be sleeping."  
"Desperate times," I said. "You'll know if I find anything."  
Before he could disappear on me, I left him in the office. I must have been getting used to these little visits, because my subconscious seemed to be creating exits for them. A thick fog covered the floor outside the office as I walked out of the dream and back into what passed for my reality.  
Doctor Hobbs smiled as I opened my eyes. "Welcome back, Captain. I trust the catnap was worth it?"  
"Yes," I said, fighting off a yawn. "Quite worth it. Where's Stephen?"  
"With a patient," she said.  
I nodded and tried to pull myself off of the bed. My muscles were still waking up, so I was a little shaky at first. I could almost feel the stimulant working its way through my system. It took a few seconds, but I finally managed to stand up. When I was sure I could do it, I headed for the door.  
That was when I heard the voices.  
"Can you believe it?"  
"I swear that skin healed by itself!"  
"She didn't even touch her!"  
I followed the voices and pointed stares to Isolab One. There was a security guard right outside the window. Stephen was on the other side, a look of pure awe on his face. He looked for all the universe like a man witnessing a miracle. Alina stood beside him, her hands hovering over Lochley's unconscious body.  
What I saw happening on the other side of that window was supposed to be impossible.  
Stephen brushed an instrument over Lochley's bare hands, and the fingers danced in response. The skin looked like it had never been damaged.  
Alina slowly moved her hands to a position over Lochley's throat. Her arms were just beginning to shake from the strain. The bandages had been taken off of Lochley's throat, and I could see the ragged edge of the knife wound. While I watched, the bright red skin around the cut started to fade. When it regained its normal pinkish color, it started to reshape itself.  
As Alina worked, she nodded intermittently at Stephen, cuing him to remove one of the sutures that had been binding the neck wound. My jaw was hanging open at the sight of the wound knitting back together. There should have been something -- a light, a sound, anything -- that gave some indication of the absolute impossibility of what was happening.  
After Stephen removed the last suture, Alina sagged against the bed, exhausted. Stephen quickly wrapped an arm around her waist and escorted her out of the Isolab.  
"Are you sure?" Stephen asked as they walked through the door.  
Alina nodded. "Yes, Stephen. I will be fine. I just need to rest."  
"Right," I said. "That's why you look like you just faced down an entire Shadow fleet?"  
She looked me right in the eye, and I almost felt her exhaustion. "Your witness can speak to you now, Captain."  
"Seriously?" I said, looking over to Stephen. "Is she telling the truth? You said-"  
"I know what I said, Susan. Yes. She's telling you the truth. I'm not even going to pretend to know how she did it, but it looks like she healed all of it."  
"Alina, how long before she can make a statement?"  
"That's up to Captain Lochley," she said. "Stephen had to sedate her so I could work. For me to lift that sedation would do more harm than good."  
"Ivanova to Garibaldi," I said, slapping my link. "Come to Medlab One. We'll talk as soon as you're through interviewing Lochley."

**********

"So, that's what we've got, Michael."  
"Damn. There hasn't been a single sign of Drakh activity anywhere near this place for six months. And now you're telling me we're looking for one of them?"  
"Maybe."  
He looked skeptical. "Lochley said it was Minette that attacked her, not a Drakh. Just exactly how much do you trust her, Ivanova?"  
I fought the urge to yell at him. I could understand his paranoia, but Michael had never seemed like a person that would let it control him. We were going to have to have a long talk when this was over. "Look, I know your opinion when it comes to telepaths is not exactly high right now. Can't say as I blame you, but I have my reasons for trusting Minette."  
The look on his face openly questioned my grip on reality. "Would you care to enlighten me on what those reasons are?"  
"No, I wouldn't."  
"I'm sorry, Ivanova," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I'm not sure I can accept that information."  
"Why not?"  
"She's a telepath. You said yourself that she's a P13. How do you know she didn't put the information in your head to make you trust her?"  
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "I *don't* know," I said, indignant. "But we don't have any other leads, Michael. Don't tell me you intend to stick your nose into every single corner of this station looking for him until you actually *find* something? That could take months, maybe years. We just can't keep this station sealed up that long. God knows we can't keep the Rangers locked up with a maniac for that long." I started to pace. "No, we've got to find this nutcase and get this station back open as soon as we can. And if you ask me, that means taking every lead, no matter where the hell it came from, and no matter how paranoid you are."  
"There is something you're not telling me," Garibaldi said, glaring at me. "I've known you too long. You're hiding something important. What is it?"  
I tried hard not to laugh. If he was this paranoid about a telepath that he barely knew, how would he take the whole truth? A part of me thanked God that I hadn't told him about the one other connection between the victims. I had the distinct impression that Garibaldi might not have minded a few telepaths getting killed, even if they were Rangers.  
"There are going to be things that I just can't tell you, Michael. It's not that I don't want to, it's just that I can't. I have enough reasons to believe her. I don't care how much you trust her. I believe what she's saying. The real question here is whether or not you trust *me*."  
He folded his arms over his chest. I could feel him sizing me up. He trusted me, he just didn't like the information I was forcing him to accept. "All right. Yes. I do trust you."  
"Then take this lead, Michael," I said, putting it straight out. "Check for Drakh. Check for any allies that *anybody* might know they have. If this bastard is still on the station, we are going to find him. Hopefully, we'll do it before another Ranger dies."  
Garibaldi slowly walked out of the room, stopping in the doorway. "Is Alina the telepath?"  
"What?"  
"The telepath. Your last resort."  
I could have put an end to it all right there, but for some reason I just couldn't lie to him. Then again, I couldn't exactly tell him the whole truth, either. "No, Michael. She's not the telepath."  
He leaned a shoulder against the wall. "Are you *ever* going to tell me who this telepath is?"  
That was a very good question. One it took me a few seconds to answer. "Maybe, when you're ready to hear the answer. Let me know what you come up with, Michael."

**********

"Susan!"  
I woke up with the scream of Marcus's thoughts still fresh in my mind. Danger, I had an overwhelming feeling of danger. I may have still been a little hazy, but I was sure of one thing. Marcus was in trouble.  
The fear came back to me as I slid out of bed. I was halfway into my uniform when I reached into the dresser drawer and grabbed my PPG. When it was tucked away in my belt, I found my link.  
"Ivanova to Medlab One."  
There was no response. Even at this hour there was someone on duty. Now, I was getting worried.  
"Ivanova to Garibaldi," I said as I pulled on my uniform jacket. My fingers were frantically working the fasteners as I headed for the door.  
"Yeah?" Garibaldi asked. Even over the link, I could tell I'd woken him. Well, life was rough sometimes.  
"Michael, something's going on in Medlab One. Grab a couple of your people and meet me there. Ivanova out."  
When I got through the door, I took off at a full sprint.  
I didn't stop running until I reached Medlab One. The doors were shut tight. I tried to look through the glass, but the lights were out on the other side. When I stepped in front of the sensor, the doors didn't want to open.  
"Computer, open doors to Medlab One."  
The computer didn't answer.  
"Emergency override. Security code Ivanova-alpha-two-two."  
Nothing.  
"Ivanova to C&C. The computer's not responding to voice command. I need the doors to Medlab One opened yesterday."  
"Working on it, Captain."  
After a few seconds, the doors began to slide open. I was about to walk through when they stopped. The opening didn't look big enough. "That's it?" I asked.  
"Best I can do from here, Captain."  
I tested the gap. I had maybe one or two centimeters to spare on each side, but it was enough for me to slide through. "It'll have to do," I whispered. "Thanks. Ivanova out."  
I waited impatiently a few more seconds for Garibaldi to get there. When he simply refused to show up, I drew my PPG, charged it, and stepped toward the waiting darkness. I looked around as best I could, and when I was sure it was at least relatively safe, I slid through the gap.  
I couldn't help thinking that this was grade-A stupid. Why not wait on Garibaldi?  
My question was answered telepathically. A deep surge of pain hit me from nearby. I followed the feeling, searching with my free hand until I found a warm body. Closer inspection told me that I'd found somebody's arm. I recognized the groan that answered my touch. It was Doctor Hobbs, and she was badly hurt.  
My mouth began to form the words, but before I could ask what happened a crash from the back of the Medlab grabbed my attention. It felt like a lead weight had landed in my stomach. The same sense of panic that had woken me up just a few minutes ago hit my telepathic senses like a tank. Only this time, I wasn't so sure of its source.  
PPG in hand, I slowly stepped away from Doctor Hobbs. My eyes had started to adjust to the near-darkness, and that let me see the path the killer had taken, straight toward Isolab Three . . . and Marcus.  
The fact that I could still feel the panic helped my nerves. As long as I felt that, he was still alive. As long as he was still alive, well, that was all that mattered.  
I started to slowly walk toward the Isolab. No matter how hard I tried, it was nearly impossible to move around the overturned trays and carts that were all over the floor. I ran my hands over the wall until I found the privacy switch. The bastard had shut it off. Well, turnabout was fair play, right? Flipping the switch to turn the recorders back on, I concentrated on what was going on inside that room.  
The lights flickered out of Isolab Three. I could see the security officer that Garibaldi had assigned to protect Marcus. He was laying in a crumpled heap on the floor.  
Now what?  
That was when I heard the snap. It was a sound that reminded me too much of something I'd heard when I was a kid. That was when Gayna had come home with an antique switchblade. That decided it for me. It was now, or never.  
I took a deep breath, holding the PPG in front of me with both hands as I turned into the doorway. "Don't move!"  
What I saw nearly stopped me cold. The eyes of a very surprised, very familiar Minbari found me. I could see the knife blade in his hand.  
"Neroon?" I whispered, recognizing the face. It definitely looked like him, but why now? He'd stopped short of killing Marcus the last time. Had he come back to finish the job?  
Wait a minute, didn't Delenn say Neroon was dead?  
Marcus was not going to believe this.  
Neroon held his empty hand out toward me. "No, little human."  
I had to shake my head to get rid of the telepathic voice.  
The flickering lights caught the blade as it shifted in his hand.  
"I said don't move!"  
Neroon shimmered.  
"What the hell?" My fingers were shaking around the PPG. I took a step closer to Neroon, trying to figure out a way to stop the blade that was just a few inches from Marcus's throat. "What the hell are you?" I demanded.  
The blade stopped, but just long enough for Neroon to swing an arm at me. He clipped my shoulder, but it was enough to throw me solidly against the wall.  
My first instinct was to throw up, but I managed to keep it under control. There had to be a broken bone somewhere in my body, but where? I moved my right arm to try and stand back up, but the only thing that I got was the feeling that someone had put my shoulder through a blender.  
What on Earth made me think I could get that close? This was a guy strong enough to take out two Minbari. He could have broken me in half without even getting winded.  
I plastered my right arm to my side, dropping the PPG into my left hand. That wasn't any better. The blood was pooling on the floor from the gash the knife had left in my upper arm. Great. Now I had a real handicap to work with.  
It took more concentration that I had ever thought I possessed, but I managed to control the pain enough to get back on my feet. My vision was drifting in and out of focus. "All right, if that's the way you want this," I said, lifting the PPG. The pain was almost more than I could handle. Somehow, I managed to get a wavering aim at Neroon's shoulder. "Let's even the score."  
I pulled the trigger.  
The shot hit precisely where I had wanted, but it didn't have the effect I'd intended. Miniature lightning bolts danced over Neroon's body, up and down his arms, out over the blade in his hand. I jumped toward him and took him down, getting the blade away from Marcus. The current hit me briefly. The pain was blinding, but somehow I managed to pull away.  
I landed on the floor beside the bed. I braced my back against the bed's support as I kept an eye on Neroon. The knife was safely in my hand. I gave it a close look, and found one frightening detail, the detail that had probably allowed the thing to get past security in the first place.  
The blade was concealed in the body of a Ranger's pin.  
Neroon began to shimmer again. The longer I watched him, the more I realized that the shimmer was happening at a regular interval. Whatever it was, I was sure it had never been Minbari.  
"What are you?" I whispered.  
Covering him with the PPG, I waited for the electric current to subside before I reached toward him. Something told me that I was looking for a belt. It was invisible, but there.  
"A changeling net?"  
Now, I had never actually seen one used, but Garibaldi had told me more than a few stories over the years. It definitely seemed to fit his description.  
"Ivanova?"  
"About time, Garibaldi," I said, not quite loudly enough for him to hear.  
"You in here?" he yelled.  
"Here, Michael," I said. My eyes, and the PPG, never left the body on the floor.  
"What the hell's that?" Garibaldi asked from somewhere behind me.  
"Our killer," I said.  
"Neroon? I thought he-"  
"I don't know what the hell he is, but it definitely isn't Neroon." I braced myself against the pain and leaned forward, pulling the invisible belt from the creature. Neroon's appearance faded, uncovering a large creature encased in black with a white, bony head and large red eyes. The shimmer was the result of its breathing. I recognized it immediately from Delenn's briefing "Drakh."  
"Yeah. You guys were right. What are they doing here?"  
"Finishing what their *friends* started," I said, fuming. Forcing myself to take deep breaths, I sat there and tried to cope with the pain that was hitting me from both sides. "I don't know what he wanted, just what he did. Put him in . . . no *under* the brig. If he starts talking, I want to know about it."

**********

The Garden on my station had never felt so peaceful. After so many lifeless places, the fantastic greenery that surrounded me was a nice change of pace. For all I knew, it might have even been a sign of his condition.  
"Found what you were looking for?"  
Once I managed to get myself back into my skin, I went searching for the voice. I found Marcus leaning casually against one of the taller trees. Even if I hadn't been able to feel his mind, the way he was watching me screamed that there was more than one meaning to that question.  
"We got him," I said.  
"No. *You* got him."  
"You helped."  
He nodded and pushed himself away from the tree. I couldn't resist smiling. That cocky attitude that only he had was back. I never realized just how much I had missed it. Even his smile was back. What walked toward me was the closest thing to the Marcus I'd known than anything I'd seen in the two weeks since this nightmare had begun.  
"You're feeling better, I take it?" I asked.  
"Getting there. I suppose this makes us even now?"  
I shook my head. "Not even close."  
"But you saved my life."  
"Not the same," I told him. "You didn't just save my life, you gave me yours. There's a big difference."  
There was a time, not that long ago, when I was convinced that I'd never be happy again. Okay, so maybe it was okay to be wrong from time to time. Maybe I was just going to have to get used to the idea. "By the way," I said, trying to distract myself. "You never did explain to me exactly where we are."  
"Most likely scenario? What's left of my mind."  
That got a laugh. "Figures. Okay then, why does it feel so different in here? I mean, normal telepathic contact doesn't work like this. I feel like-"  
"You can barely hide anything?" He looked down at the artificial ground at our feet. "If our theory is right, this is hardly a normal telepathic connection. We're tied into each other on a level that's beyond telepathic. The walls won't help us here."  
"What walls?"  
"The ones we've built around ourselves. May I just say that I've seen castles that weren't as well-fortified."  
I would have gotten angry, if he hadn't been right. Had it really taken both of both of us nearly dying to finally get through those walls?  
"Don't have to worry about that anymore, do we?" he asked.  
"Did you really think I'd never know?"  
He raised an eyebrow. "You tell me. What would you have done if I'd told you?"  
I was actually surprised by the answer to that. "I'm not sure. Most of the time, I probably would have laughed, said you were crazy."  
"Most of the time?" he asked, smiling. "When wouldn't you have thought I was mad?"  
I tried to pull myself away, afraid I'd say something stupid. I managed to get a few steps away before he stopped me.  
"Susan?"  
"You have no idea how much I wish I'd listened to you when you tried to warn me about that debris," I told him. "Then none of this would have happened."  
"Don't be so sure. Trust me, there were still plenty of opportunities in there for us to get killed." He smiled playfully at me. "You didn't have to take the first one that came along, you know."  
"I'm a combat pilot, Marcus. Do you have any idea how *embarrassing* it is to basically get killed in an interstellar fender bender?" I asked as the humor became contagious. "Well, at least you got your heroic suicide, didn't you? How could I be so cruel as to deprive you of that?"  
"Suicide in the name of love," he said, giving it a dramatic flourish. "Maybe Duncan was right. Maybe I have read too much."  
"At least too much Shakespeare. When you wake up, I'm going to have the complete works of one Harlan Ellison waiting on the computer in your quarters."  
"You *like* him?" he asked with distaste. "He was always a little too cynical for me."  
I looked into those bright blue eyes and smiled. "Marcus Cole, the eternal optimist. Well, at least some things never change."  
"Of course, some become even more beautiful," he said, brushing his fingers against my cheek.  
For a minute, I just closed my eyes and enjoyed everything I was feeling. With everything that was going on, who knew when I would get this chance again?  
The idea threw cold water on the situation.  
"This isn't over, Marcus."  
"Of course not."  
"No, I mean this nightmare with the Drakh. Alina found out that all of the Rangers that were killed were telepaths. I've got a very bad feeling about this."  
He looked skeptical. "A bad feeling, or are you just getting paranoid?"  
"You don't understand." I held my hands out to the greenery that surrounded us. "Just because we're here means that we have a whole new set of problems to worry about. You're not used to having to hide the fact that you're a telepath. I am. It's not easy."  
"Susan," he said, taking my hand from the air. "You worry too much. If we're protected within the Rangers, we are protected by the best. That Drakh didn't kill either of us, did he?"  
"Not that he didn't try."  
"Did he?" he asked insistently.  
"No."  
"Now, could the Psi Corps do any worse to us than that Drakh?"  
I thought for a second. "Depends on your definition of worse."  
He groaned. "Susan! Are you so used to hiding from the Corps that you can't accept the fact that you are *finally* safe?"  
"God, I hate it when you're right."  
He simply smiled that annoyingly placating smile. "Now," he said, sliding his fingers through mine. "I seem to remember you were telling me about that brother of yours. Tell me more?"  
I let him pull me down to sit on the grass beside him. We spent the night talking about Gayna, Will, Liana, and a few childhood adventures that could only be described as bizarre. I was surprised at how comfortable it felt.  
I laid back on the grass, staring up at what passed for sky. Yes, I could definitely get used to this.

*****  
  
I stepped into the interrogation room two steps behind Alina Minette. She walked right over to the restrained Drakh and stared into those huge red eyes. "You can't hide now, coward," she said in a voice that was so filled with threat it had me worried.  
I put a hand on her arm to try and calm her down. As much as I would have liked to kill the thing myself, we just couldn't run off and break Alliance law.  
I tried to muster all of the dignity I could, but it was hard to do with one arm bandaged and the other shoulder bound so tightly I couldn't move it.  
"As the acting representative of the Interstellar Alliance," I announced, "I am informing you of your current situation. You will remain on this station, in our maximum security facility, until your trial. Right now Earth and Minbar are having a ball trying to figure out who gets their hands on you first. Both governments *are* pressing charges. Four counts of murder in the first degree, two counts of attempted murder, one count of assault with intent, and they're just getting warmed up. Do you understand?"  
The Drakh looked at me, then at Alina. She blinked, shaking her head as if she'd been hit. "He understands, Captain, but he doesn't think we have any power over him."  
"He doesn't, does he? Garibaldi, do we have a statement from this . . . thing . . . yet?"  
Garibaldi shook his head. "Nope. His vocal translator won't do anything we'd understand."  
"What about Minbari?" Alina asked.  
"Tried that, too. It only has a few words. Not enough."  
Alina stared intently at the Drakh for a few seconds before backing away. She looked like she'd just seen something both scary and disgusting. "I've got one now," she said. "It's revenge. Against us and the Vorlons."  
"The Vorlons?" I asked.  
Alina shook her head like she was trying to clear it. "Yes. We know the Vorlons were responsible for creating telepaths on every world. With the Vorlons gone, the Drakh are targeting their creations. They're starting with the Rangers as revenge for driving their masters out."  
Garibaldi swore. "You mean, every telepath of every species in the Alliance is a target for them?"  
"Precisely, Mister Garibaldi."  
Garibaldi turned on me. "Then why did he go after Marcus? Unless he's-"  
"He's *not* the one, Michael," I warned him. "I have no idea why he was going after Marcus."  
Alina looked confused. "Marcus wasn't on the list I gave you, Captain."  
"We'll talk about this later, Miss Minette."  
Alina nodded, ending it with a nod toward the prisoner. "I conveyed the nature of his circumstances to him, Captain. He is resistant, but I believe the maximum security facility should be able to keep him incarcerated until the trial and summary execution." She spoke the last words with a frightening level of venom in her voice. It was enough to make me realize that the sooner we got her out of here, the better.  
"Come on," I said. "I've got to go turn this station back over to Lochley before the President and Delenn get back."

**********

I could sense Lochley almost two meters before I hit the turn into the docking bay. She was standing in front of the door, her back to me, looking like absolutely nothing about the last two weeks had phased her in the least.  
"Captain Lochley, good to see you up and around," I said, trying to at least be pleasant.  
From the look on her face, I could tell she wasn't nearly as happy to see me. "Thank you, Captain. At least I have *my* station back intact."  
Now, there was gratitude for you. I managed to fight off the urge to inform her *precisely* how much of Babylon Five belonged to her, but it wasn't easy. "At least all I have to worry about are the Rangers again."  
"Until Delenn gets back," she said.  
The longer we stood there, the worse the silence got. Lochley's foot tapped on the deck. To anyone else, it would have looked like impatience. To me, it was a sign of an impending explosion. She must have picked it up from John. When she couldn't take the silence anymore, she turned on me. "You know, I could call the Psi Corps tomorrow."  
"You could," I said, staring straight ahead, "but you won't."  
"Why not?"  
She wanted to have a little verbal fencing match, did she? I glared at her, deciding to make it look like I was bluffing. "Because the Corps can't do anything."  
She found something about that deliriously amusing. "Really? What makes you say that?"  
"President Sheridan," I told her. "Face it, you're overruled."  
"You're an Earthforce officer, Captain. They find out you're a rogue teep, you could lose your commission. Is that what you really want?"  
Now, the ace in the hole came out. "How many times did you and I stare at each other over the barrels of pulse cannons during the civil war, Captain?"  
Lochley blinked.  
I continued the assault. "How many times could I have killed you? How many people around here don't trust you any further than they could throw you? How lucky are you to still be in Earthforce, let alone hold a command rank? How close are you, *really*, to a mutiny here, Captain? You have no idea how many people around here were ecstatic to see me take over for you."  
Lochley stared. "Is that a threat, Captain?"  
"Only if you're threatening me. I'll make you a deal. You keep the Corps out of this, and I let you run the station your own way."  
"You won't get in my way?  
"No."  
The docking bay doors opened. Delenn and John walked toward us with smiles on both of their faces.  
"Deal," Lochley quickly said before snapping to attention.  
"Susan, Captain," John said. "I read your report. Good work, Susan. You and Miss Minette saved a lot of people's lives. Nice to see you've recovered, Captain."  
Lochley gave him a quick nod. "Thank you, sir. I am pleased to announce that the station is fully operational once again."  
Delenn stepped around John, her hand landing on my good forearm. "Susan, have you arranged funerals for the human Rangers that were killed?"  
"Their families have been informed. We're waiting to hear if they want any special arrangements. The Minbari victims are waiting for you, Delenn."  
"That is acceptable," she said, looking around the room as the four of us walked out. "Where is Alina?"  
I took up step beside her. "She sent her apologies. She said there was something very important that she needed to check into in Medlab and that she would formally greet you in your office."  
Delenn slowed down, taking my good elbow. "And Marcus?" she quietly asked.  
I let Lochley and John keep walking. "He's fine. I got there before there was any harm done."  
"Susan," Delenn said, her voice still low, "I know you left one detail out of your official report. You neglected to mention the one connection between all of the Rangers who were killed."  
"I didn't want-"  
"-to put Marcus in jeopardy. I understand. Susan, I must know, so that we can protect both of you properly. He is not listed in our records as being a telepath."  
I shook my head. "I don't know, Delenn. If the readings Stephen has been getting are any indication, he's about a P3. I don't think we'll know for sure until he's awake, though."  
She thought about it for a second before turning back to follow her husband. "Then our records will not be complete until Marcus wakes, will they?"  
  
**********

I walked into the Isolab just in time to hear Lyta Alexander's voice. "I don't see it, Stephen. You're telling me he's connected to someone telepathically?"  
"Yes," I answered for him. "You can't pick it up because it's not exactly a normal telepathic signal."  
Now, it wasn't that often that anyone confused the strongest telepath in human history. I had to admit to a rather perverse pleasure at the look that crept onto Lyta's face. "What do you mean, it isn't a normal telepathic signal? He's really connected to someone?"  
I nodded.  
"Who?"  
"Me."  
She went from confused to surprised. I was two for two. "You?" she asked. "How?"  
"I'm going to let *you* explain this one, Captain," Stephen said, giving me a sarcastic look as he walked out of the room.  
"That's what we've been trying to figure out," I said.  
"We?" Lyta asked. She didn't look very certain that I still had a grip on reality. "You mean, you really have been talking to him?"  
"I know it sounds crazy, Lyta. Trust me, I didn't believe it myself at first."  
"Do you plan on enlightening me?"  
I took a deep breath, trying to figure out where to start. I had this feeling that Lyta already knew about me, anyway, and it was a known fact that she had no love lost for the Corps. I finally came to the conclusion that I could trust her. "Well, the best we can tell is it happened with that machine. The same energies that caused my abilities to kick in set up some sort of feedback loop. That machine apparently works on a genetic level. It must have copied the gene from me and fed it back into him. That's why you can't pick it up. It's too focussed."  
"And you can talk to him?" she asked, taking a step closer to the bed.  
"Yes."  
"Now?"  
I shook my head. "There are times I can almost feel it. It's like something just brushes my mind."  
"The link can't form when you're awake."  
"Exactly. I had Stephen check his neurotransmitter levels. The more severe fluctuations have happened during the nights I remember talking to him."  
She ran a hand over her red hair. "How? He's been tested by the Corps. They don't miss anyone. If he really were a telepath-"  
The look in her eyes said she'd had an idea. She walked over to the computer display. I followed her, and found that Stephen had pulled up what looked like two genetic records. "I'll be damned," Lyta whispered, staring at the display.  
"What?"  
"You're right. I have no idea how, but you're right."  
"It *did* change his genetic markers?"  
Lyta pointed at the screen. "See for yourself. Stephen was about to show me the records when you got here. The only difference between now and this old record is the telepathic gene."  
"Old record?" There was only one way that Marcus could have had an old genetic record. I looked at the display, and found the code that corresponded to the old Earthforce genetic registry. "He was in Earthforce?"  
"Yes."  
I turned and found Alina standing in the doorway, a dark cloak covering her shoulders.  
"He was drafted," she said. "That picture you saw was from our going-away party."  
"Wait a minute, he told me it was *your* party."  
Alina shrugged. "He wasn't too thrilled about being drafted, Captain. Didn't think there was much of a reason to celebrate. I tried to keep up with what happened to him as best I could from Minbar. Once he got out of training he was assigned to Earthforce Intelligence."  
I raised an eyebrow at Lyta. "That would explain a lot. Why didn't he ever tell me?"  
"He got out of training a few months before the Minbari surrendered, Captain. After that, he went back to Arisia and stayed there until it was destroyed. From there, he went to Tuzanor. You know the rest." Alina took a step closer to the bed. "Captain, I may be able to help with this situation."  
"Situation?" I asked. Then it finally occurred to me what was happening. "You really think you can do it?"  
"Yes, Captain."  
"Do what?" Lyta asked.  
"She's a telekinetic healer, Lyta, and a strong one, from what I've seen. She's the reason Lochley's up and around."  
Lyta's eyes shot open. "You never told me that! But the Corps uses teeks as assassins. Who trained you?"  
"The Minbari, with the occasional Vorlon thrown in for good measure. It's a long story."  
"I'd love to hear it."  
Alina smiled. "Of course. Marcus and I were like family. Anything I can do to help him, I will."  
"What do you want us to do?" I asked, finally managing to shake off the shock.  
Alina's green eyes looked down at Marcus. "I need someone to monitor his vital signs while I work."  
Stephen chose that moment to wander back into the room. "You've got it. I was beginning to wonder when you were going to try this."  
"Stephen, you mean, you knew about this?" I asked.  
"Of course. She told me what she was thinking as soon as she was sure she could pull it off." He removed most of the surrounding equipment, and started to take readings with what was left. "He's still comatose and stable. All of the non-essential equipment is gone. Ready when you are, Doctor."  
"Good," Alina said. Her eyes slowly closed. The palms of her hands came to rest over Marcus's forehead and chest in a motion that looked practiced. "I can help him," she whispered, opening her eyes on Lyta. "I will need your help, though." I could see the pleading in Alina's eyes as she looked from Lyta to me. "Both of you. I need Lyta's abilities to work with mine. Captain, you will be able to tell me if this is working long before Stephen will."  
"You've done this before?" I asked, nervous.  
"Yes."  
"Tell me what to do," Lyta said, solid as a rock.  
If Lyta wasn't nervous, then there was no way in hell that I would be. "You're the boss," I told Alina.  
"Thank you." Alina collected herself, then took Lyta's hands in her own. "I'm going to channel some of the energy through you. All I ask is that you put all of the power you can behind me."  
Lyta nodded, and Alina turned her attentions to me. "You're the person closest to him, Captain. The connection you have should activate well before anything these instruments will be able to pick up."  
"But, if it's telepathic, won't you be able to pick it up?"  
Alina smiled. "Lyta and I will be too busy. We may get a sense of him, but you will be able to keep a closer watch."  
Somehow, I knew what to do. I walked up to the head of the bed and placed my hands flat against the pillow. "What makes you think I'll know this is working? Precisely what in the hell are we trying, anyway?"  
Alina's palms came together gently over Marcus's chest. "The Minbari have an interesting theory about coma patients, Captain. Since they basically think of the body as a reflection of the soul, someone in a coma is nothing more than a soul that's been temporarily displaced, that needs to be connected back to its body. Their scientists haven't been able to come up with a clinical way to reconnect them yet. It takes a specially-trained telekinetic to do it."  
"And you've done this how many times before?" I asked.  
"This will be the third time. And yes, the other two fully recovered."  
I looked down at Marcus, thinking about what we were about to attempt. As Garibaldi loved to remind me, I'd had some truly nutty ideas in my day. This one, though, had to go down as crazier than any idea *I'd* ever had.  
Okay, so maybe it wasn't crazier than knowingly taking the White Star fleet up against a fleet of Shadow-enhanced destroyers. I'd done that, even against my own better judgment.  
John still considered that to be the decisive victory in the campaign to reclaim Earth.  
That had to have been the most half-baked scheme of my life, and it had worked like a charm.  
One thing still bugged me, though. "Why would I know before either of you? He can't contact me when I'm awake."  
"That's about to change," Alina said, smiling. "You said you can feel it when he tries to reach you. This will surprise the hell out of him. He'll reach out for help the only way he knows he can -- to you. As soon as you feel him trying, let me know. Lyta and I will work on repairing the damage."  
I nodded, and Alina turned her attentions to Lyta. "If we get to a point where you think you can handle some of this yourself, go ahead. I'll check on everything before we finish. Once you find the pathways, the rest is easy."  
"I'm not telekinetic," Lyta tried to protest.  
"Tell that to someone who might believe it. Now come on, let's get to work."  
Alina guided Lyta's hands to positions over Marcus's forehead and heart. I wasn't sure how I knew what to do, but something told me to put my palms against the sides of his face. Even touching his skin, I couldn't sense him. I was as if the lights were on, but no one was home. It bothered me a little, until I remembered that I had never really tried to sense him when I was awake.  
The sound of someone whispering filled the room. Alina had begun a soft mantra. It took me a couple of seconds to realize that she was speaking in Minbari, but it was a dialect that I had never heard before.  
Suddenly, a tingle started in my fingers, setting off every single one of my telepathic alarms. The tingle worked its way into me, finally settling into my arms. The pain that I had been trying to ignore very slowly went away.  
Surprised, I opened my eyes to find Alina still whispering her mantra. She was staring directly at Lyta. The sight of Lyta's eyes almost made me flinch. They were absolutely black.  
Whatever they were doing, it looked like it was pushing the both of them to their limits.  
Wings. For a second, I heard the flapping of gigantic wings.  
Without warning, my vision went black. When I got my balance back, I realized that what I was seeing was a mass of fibrous, broken lines that looked more like frayed strands of human hair than anything else. Fiber after fiber began to knit together into perfectly smooth strips.  
The brush of Marcus's presence finally appeared, getting stronger as each strand mended.  
"He's aware of us," I announced.  
Alina's voice took on an almost mechanical tone. "Understood."  
I heard Stephen's voice in the distance. "Vitals are just starting to creep up."  
The lines continued to re-form.  
*Susan?*  
*Yes, Marcus?*  
*What's going on?*  
We're trying to help you. Now, be quiet.*  
Seconds felt like hours, until we finally hit the last ten pieces of the puzzle. By my count, that left them only five connections to repair.  
*Susan?*  
*What is it, Marcus?*  
*What are they doing?*  
*Putting your mind back together with your body.*  
Four connections left.  
"Heart rate normal," Stephen said.  
*My what?*  
Three connections.  
*Let Alina explain it. I'm still not completely sure I get it.*  
*Has she done this before?*  
*Twice.*  
Two connections.  
"His respiration is normal," Stephen said. I could hear the disbelief in his voice. "Blood pressure normal."  
*Susan?*  
*What is it, Marcus?*  
One connection was all that was left.  
*I love you.*  
*I know.*  
The last connection slowly knit together.  
*I love you, too. Now open your eyes.*  
The lines faded from my field of vision, giving me a clear view of two women who looked like they were about to fall over from exhaustion. "Lyta? Alina?"  
Lyta held up a hand, wagging her head. "I'll be fine," she said between deep breaths.  
Alina leaned against the bed. "Me, too. How's he?"  
Almost on cue, I felt the skin under my fingers start to twitch. I looked down just in time to see his eyes open.  
"I'm fine, now," he whispered.  
I heard a sniffle. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Lyta wipe away a tear.  
"He's right," Stephen announced. "I don't believe this. You're a little malnourished from the month of intravenous feeding, but other than that your readings look amazingly normal, buddy. Well, what's normal for you, anyway. I want to keep an eye on you for possible muscle atrophy, though. Between the cryo and the coma, you've been under long enough to worry about it."  
He accidentally patted my bandaged arm.  
I flinched, but It didn't hurt. That surprised me more than anything else.  
"You okay, Susan?" Stephen asked.  
"I don't know." I tried to move my arm in its shattered shoulder. It wasn't even uncomfortable. "The pain's gone."  
Stephen grabbed a scanner and aimed it at my shoulder. I could feel his reaction. He wasn't surprised by what he saw. "Alina must have warmed up on you."  
"What?"  
He showed me the scanner, but I couldn't make heads or tails of the readings. "She healed your shoulder, Susan. Probably took care of that knife wound, too. Let me get a better look at it before you take off for the night, okay?"  
I nodded, wondering if Marcus had felt the same tingling feeling when she'd healed him.  
"Tell you what, I'll take Lyta and Alina to Isolab One and check on them. Give you two a few minutes alone."  
"Thanks, Stephen." I stopped him before he could follow his newest patients out of the room. "And, Stephen, tell Alina I'm sorry -- and thank you."  
He shook his head. "Nope. I want to be there to see the great Susan Ivanova publicly admit that she was finally wrong." With a pat on Marcus's shoulder, he added, "About a lot of things."  
"Stephen," I said.  
"Hey, it's no crime to be wrong, Susan. When it comes to the two of you, I think everybody was. I'll be back in about ten minutes." He grabbed a portable scanner and left the room.  
When he was gone, I decided I didn't have time to waste. "Marcus?"  
"Yes?"  
I stood there watching him for what seemed like a long time, and the words just left my mouth. "Marry me."  
"What?"  
"You heard me."  
*I must still be dreaming. I didn't wake up.*  
"You look awake to me," I said.  
*Stop that!*  
"Stop what?"  
*That!*  
"Then answer me."  
*Why?*  
I had forgotten how frustrating he could be. "Because I asked you a question."  
*No, why ask now?*  
Some very familiar words popped into my head. "Why not later? Would you prefer I wait until that millisecond when *your* brainwaves go flat? Face it, Marcus, you're stuck with me for the rest of your life. We can put off dealing with what happened, or we can stop this little song and dance routine and try to make something good come out of this. Unless. . ."  
*Unless?*  
"There wouldn't be some kind of rule about Rangers not getting married, would there?"  
He shook his head.  
*You know that's not true.*  
"Then what's the problem?" I leaned down beside the bed, making sure I was just the right distance from his ear when I said, "Unless the big, brave Ranger is afraid of the right hand of God?"  
Thanks to my location, I got to hear the groan that answered that question.  
What felt like a truly wicked smile appeared on my face. I had him, hook, line, and proverbial sinker. I decided to just sit there and watch the decision being made. The emotions that came to me were strong, but conflicted.  
Oh, I knew what his answer was going to be. Now that I'd actually had a second or two to get used to the idea, I fully intended to badger him until he said yes.  
From what I could see, though, he wasn't so sure he liked the idea of leaving me to face the universe alone and widowed at what would probably be a young age. For all either one of us knew, he wouldn't live to see tomorrow.  
I reached up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear, feeling the seriousness of the situation come back. "Marcus, you are not about to tell me you love me, give me just about all of your life and walk away like nothing happened. I'm the professional worrier. Let me be the one to figure out what to do when all of this is over, okay?"  
*Susan?*  
Granted, my heart and I hadn't been on speaking terms for a *very* long time, but what happened next had it screaming at me. Reaching up, he pulled my hand from his forehead and brought it the inch or so down to his lips. A very gentle kiss was pressed against the inside of my wrist.  
*Yes.*  
"Good," I said, smiling. "So, think you'll be up and around in a week?"  
"Hmm? A week?"  
"That's probably the earliest we could get the wedding together. Besides, you want to be healthy for that honeymoon, right? I mean, admittedly, these new quarters they've assigned me aren't quite as big as my old digs, but there just isn't enough room for you and those unicorns of yours."  
"Unicorns?" I could feel him putting the pieces together. "Oh, that."  
"Susan, get your hands off of his throat. God, I leave the two of you alone for five minutes and he's bright red!"  
If the sight of the blush in Marcus's cheeks hadn't made me laugh, the sarcastic tone of Stephen's voice definitely did. "You want to tell him?" I asked.  
"Tell me what?" Stephen asked.  
"How long before I can go home, Stephen?"  
"Well, right now your readings are good. If they're still this good in a couple of days, I'll probably release you."  
I smiled at Marcus. "A couple of days?"  
"I was always a fast healer," he said, apologetic.  
"With a little help," I reminded him. He was still holding my hand beside his cheek. "Stephen, do you think he'll be all right in a week?"  
"Provided he doesn't die between now and then, I don't see why not."  
"Could you two please stop being so cavalier about my impending doom?" Marcus asked.  
I looked right into those blue eyes. "Only if you stop trying to kill yourself. You've had your heroic suicide, remember?"  
"All right," he said, rolling his eyes. "Stephen, if I'm still alive in a week, would you be the best man at our wedding?"  
The look on Stephen Franklin's face was absolutely priceless. Not once in all my years had I ever seen a person *that* surprised. "Wedding?"  
"Wedding," Marcus and I said.  
Stephen smiled at him. "Marcus, you don't waste any time, do you?"  
"Actually, she's the one who asked."  
I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself. He actually looked *more* stunned. "Susan? You?"  
"We don't have that much time to waste," I shrugged.  
Stephen stood totally still for a few seconds, apparently taking in the information. "Have you told anyone else yet?"  
"Nope," I said. "You're the first to know."  
"Really?" he asked, smiling. "This could be the first time *I've* been the first person to know something around here. Thanks."  
"Well?" Marcus asked.  
Stephen reached out and took Marcus's other arm. "It would be an honor."  
A loud gasp from the doorway drew all of our attentions.  
Delenn was standing there, her hands covering her mouth. I could see the tears in her eyes. "Marcus," she whispered.  
"Hello, Delenn."  
She walked over as best she could, until she was standing beside the bed. Stephen backed away, which gave her more room to maneuver.  
"Lyta and Alina both want to see you, Marcus" he said. "You think you can see them in a couple of minutes?"  
Marcus nodded, and Stephen left.  
I tried to pull my hand away, figuring he would want to talk to Delenn alone, but he wouldn't let me go. "No, you don't," he said. "Please stay here?"  
"You sure?" I asked.  
"Positive."  
I reached over and grabbed the nearby stool. If I was going to stay, I was at least going to be comfortable.  
Delenn grabbed Marcus's free hand. She had finally managed to get herself under control. "Did you get your wish, Susan?"  
"Yes," I told her.  
"Wish?" Marcus asked.  
"Susan wanted to be the first person you saw when you woke," Delenn explained. "I am so happy to see you, Marcus."  
If he only knew just how happy she really was to see him. I realized at that point that Delenn needed Marcus back almost as much as I did. After everything that had happened, by getting him back, she also had Lennier.  
John would never know how much his wife had lost when she lost Lennier.  
I tried not to dwell on the topic, for fear Marcus might pick up on my thoughts. The only problem was whether or not Delenn had thought of the same thing.  
Judging by the way Marcus was looking at her, she hadn't.  
"It's good to be back, Delenn," he said.  
"You know," I said, "I would have thought you were enjoying that. All of that room to yourself."  
The look of annoyance on his face was priceless. "You mean, having the *whole* of Babylon Five completely to myself, save for your *occasional* visits? You thought I would enjoy that? Love, you obviously don't know me as well as you thought."  
"Well, I have-"  
"-someone around who does," Alina interrupted. She looked slightly less exhausted, but the smile on her face had far more energy that anybody in the room. "Welcome back, Puck."  
"Liana," Marcus whispered. "It *is* you."  
She glanced at me for a second. "Now, I can understand the love of your life not believing me. She doesn't seem to trust anyone. But you?"  
"They told me you were dead," he said.  
"Funny," she chuckled, "they told me the same thing about you. The ubiquitous 'they' seems to have a bad habit of being wrong lately, eh?" She stepped up behind Delenn, her smile not fading one degree in its brightness. "You look pretty good for a dead man, Cole."  
"You don't look half bad yourself," he said. "Though, I do miss the red hair."  
"She wanted to dye it back," Lyta said from the doorway, "but I thought it might get a little confusing around here."  
"Oh, admit it, you were jealous," Alina shot back. "Just because I was *trained* by the Vorlons, and you were merely *enhanced*."  
It was obvious that this was an old argument and, judging by the tone of Lyta's voice, one they found very amusing. "You're just jealous because I can breathe their air."  
"A lot of good that does us *now*," Alina said, keeping up the banter. "I mean, it's not like we're all headed for the Vorlon homeworld any time soon."  
"*You* might be headed there sooner than you think."  
Alina looked at Lyta, raised an eyebrow, and turned back to Marcus. "So, when's the wedding?"  
"Next week," he said.  
"A little soon, isn't it? I mean, we've got a lot of planning to do."  
"We?" I asked.  
Delenn looked seriously offended. "Susan, Alina is correct. Granted, my experience with human marriage ceremonies is limited, but I do understand that a considerable amount of work is involved. You do not wish for our assistance?"  
The three of them looked at me as if I had gone off the deep end. I had the strangest feeling that some sincere covert planning had taken place for just such an occasion.  
If it had just been Delenn, I would have had a chance, a slim one, but a chance. The idea of going up against the *three* of them, however, that intimidated even me. "All right. I give up! If you three want to help, that's fine with me. But I have the *final* call on everything, okay?"  
The smiles that appeared as the three of them looked at each other confirmed it. "The three of you *were* planning this the whole time, weren't you?"  
"To a point," Delenn said.  
"To a point?" Alina asked. "Captain, we've only had three weeks to work, and you *know* what the last two weeks have been like. How much could we have possibly planned in that amount of time?"  
Something told me I didn't want to be the one to answer that. So, I took the roundabout route. "When are the flowers arriving?"  
"Friday," Lyta said. She promptly received the most accusing looks I'd ever seen from Delenn and Alina.  
I heard laughter, and looked down to find Marcus watching the whole spectacle with very much the same expression Garibaldi had when watching his Daffy Duck cartoons. "What do you think is so funny?"  
"Nothing," he said, desperately trying to look innocent. "Absolutely nothing."  
"Ladies," Stephen piped up. "I hate to interrupt this little kaffee klatsch, but I have a patient that needs his rest. You have a whole week to plan. Knowing you three, a day is more than enough time. Lyta and Alina, you both could use a good night's sleep. Delenn, off your feet, doctor's orders."  
The two telepaths pouted, but did as they were told. Delenn followed suit, disappointed as all hell at being forced out. I heard whispers and giggles as they left. "They're not done with us yet," I said.  
"Maybe," Stephen said, "but that's something you two can deal with tomorrow. I'll have a bed brought in here for you, Susan. You can stay until he's discharged, okay?"  
I nodded. "Thank you."  
Stephen stopped in the doorway, "And, by the way, congratulations."  
As he left, I began to contemplate everything that had just happened. I felt like someone whose whole life had been changed in a whirlwind of fate. A whirlwind that had come out of my own mind.  
And I couldn't help but wonder just what in the world I had gotten myself into.

[End Part 5 of 6]

_BABYLON 5 names, characters and all related indicia are the property of J. Michael Straczynski, TNT and Warner Brothers, a division of Time Warner Entertainment Company. All rights reserved._


	6. Epilogue

[AC][AL]  
  
Disclaimers: All B5 characters and settings belong to JMS and Warner Brothers and anybody else with legitimate legal claim. Don't want them, not claiming them, just borrowing them. Only one character's mine, but if the Great Maker needs her, or someone similar to her, she's his.  
  
Spoiler warning: *Definitely* contains spoilers up to the current U.S. episodes of Season 5 (as much as I can actually use within the context of this story), as well as Book #9. *Could definitely* contain spoilers through the end of Season 5.  
  
This is my first foray into the mystery genre, so please forgive any really glaring errors.  
  
Big boxes of virtual Godivas to all who helped in the birth of this baby! You guys are the best!   
  
Here it is, the final part!  
As with all things B5-related, the last piece is a stand-alone.  
Thanks for sticking with me all the way through! Hope you enjoyed it!  
  
Enough of my stalling. After some brief spoiler space for those who may not be up-to-date with the U.S.. . .   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Perpetual dedication:  
Dedicated to those of us who think there had to be a better way for Ivanova to realize it.  
  
*****  
  
_Epilogue -- August 30, 2263_  
  
The clock said it was three in the morning. I wasn't supposed to wake up for two more hours. What in the hell had awakened me so early?  
I tried to get back to sleep, but something telepathic brushed against my mind. I may have been tired, but it felt unformed, untrained, just short of fully aware.  
The next thing I knew, I was bolt awake.  
I realized what it was.  
So this was what it felt like.  
After two months of speculation, the moment I'd been waiting for had finally arrived.  
I shoved my head further into the pillow, deciding to stay awake for the time being and simply enjoy everything that I was feeling, both inside and out.  
The regular, soft breathing against my neck told me that Marcus was still fast asleep. The arm that was wrapped around my waist kept him snug against me.  
The worry set in. Now I had to figure out how to tell him. There were two possibilities for what he might do when he heard the news. I prayed he would be ecstatic about it, but somehow I didn't think that would happen.  
There it was, the black cloud of his shortened lifespan looming large once again. Not since our wedding had things looked quite so dark. We'd managed to make it through the wedding, and we would probably make it through this one, too.  
I hoped.  
I slid his hand the few inches from my waist to a point where he might feel what had woken me up. With luck, he would sense it for himself.  
Of course, then I'd have to deal with why I'd waited two months and still hadn't told him.  
"What's the matter, love?"   
"Nothing, Marcus. Go back to sleep."  
He pulled me back against him, stopping short. "What's that?"  
"What's what?"  
"Computer, lights, ten percent." He propped himself up, until he was using my shoulder as a chin rest. I could see his eyes taking very careful note of where his hand rested. "Susan, what are you not telling me?"  
I slid over onto my back, looking up into those eyes. Even though I could block him out telepathically, he still knew something was up. "What do you think of the name Sophie?"  
I could actually watch the process of realization unfold on his face. "You mean?"  
"You're picking up something different, aren't you?"  
"Yes," he whispered. In the dim light, I could see the tear on his cheek. "Sophie's perfect. When?"  
I reached up and brushed away the tear. "About five more months, give or take. Think you can stand the wait?"  
"Susan-"  
"You'll see her, Marcus. I promise you."  
"I know."  
I was surprised by how strongly he believed that statement. "What? How?"  
He looked at the clock, smiling. "Well, since technically it is your birthday, I suppose I can tell you now. Stephen told me about a test he thinks he's perfected. Something about since Delenn and John decided to set up shop here he's had a chance to work on it. I don't know. Anyway, he says this test can estimate how much time a person who's been -- he called it artificially revived' -- has left." He leaned down and kissed the tip of my nose. "I'll see Sophie. What do you think of the name William Lennier?"  
It had to be the hormones. I couldn't help it. I started crying. "I love it. How long did he give you?"  
"Somewhere between six and nine years."  
My eyes bulged. "Nine years?"  
"Or six. Of course, barring accident, injury, or you getting angry."  
I wasn't sure if it was my heart or not, but at that moment I was reminded of something Delenn had told me to do. Treasure the moments, no matter how many of them we were given.  
"Computer," I said, "time-delayed message for Doctor Stephen Franklin. Deliver with morning messages. Audio only. Message. Six to nine years! Stephen, what are you trying to do, kill me? He's talking about wanting a son now!" I couldn't help but laugh. "Seriously, Stephen. I'm going to hold you to that. Ivanova out."

[FIN]

_BABYLON 5 names, characters and all related indicia are the property of J. Michael Straczynski, TNT and Warner Brothers, a division of Time Warner Entertainment Company. All rights reserved._


End file.
